3   1822  01122  4896        Drvr^  M  O 

x      iv^ivi..           EMS 


OF    THE. 


1- AND  17™  CENTURIES 


3   1822  01122  4896 


G    *JJt*>7&W 


RARE    POEMS 


RARE    POEMS 

OF    THE 
SIXTEENTH    AND   SEVENTEENTH    CENTURIES 

A   SUPPLEMENT   TO   THE   ANTHOLOGIES 

COLLECTED   AND    EDITED    WITH    NOTES 
BY   W.   J.   LINTON 


BOSTON:    ROBERTS   BROTHERS 
1883 


The  engraving  on  the  Title-page  borrowed 

from  a  design  by  the  great  Scottish  painter 

DAVID   SCOTT 


TTNDER  the  title  GOLDEN  APPLES  OF  HESPERUS  I  lately 
printed  a  limited  edition  (only  225  copies)  of  "  Poems  not  in 
the  Collections,"  meaning  the  general  selections  accessible  to 
the  ordinary  readers  —  not  really  students  of  English  poetry. 
The  present  book  is  but  in  part  a  reprint  of  that.  Half  the 
wood-cuts  omitted,  some  new  ones  are  given;  and  instead  of 
poems  of  the  igth  century,  additional  poems  of  the  i6th  and 
ryth  centuries,  with  a  selection  from  the  anonymous  writings 
of  the  same  period,  out  of  early  miscellanies,  or  from  reprints 
by  Park,  Ellis,  Collier,  Arber,  &c.  The  Notes  are  all  new. 

Some  very  few  of  these  contents  of  my  book  may  possibly 
be  found  in  one  or  other  anthology,  escaping  my  search;  half 
a  dozen  in  Ward's  English  Poets,  1880  (obtained  after  I  had 
arranged  my  work),  I  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  retain, 
for  reasons  stated  in  my  Notes.  Of  the  Anonymous  Poems, 
one  or  two,  now  and  then  accidentally  appearing  in  some  out 
of  the  way  collection,  I  have  repeated  for  the  sake  of  nearer 
completeness  of  this  division  of  my  subject.  My  book  here 
meets  a  want,  whether  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  insufficient 
industry  of  collectors,  or  for  other  reasons,  I  need  not  care 
to  determine.  It  is  enough  to  state  the  fact,  while  redeeming 
so  much  of  neglected  worth  as  may  be  within  reach  of  one 
who  claims  not  scholarship,  but  dares  to  call  himself  a  lover 
of  the  old  writers. 

.Toward  a  correct  text  I  have  done  all  an  unlearned  man  is 
able  to  do,  taking  for  guide  the  belief  that  our  poets  were  not 


VI 


writers  of  nonsense.  My  book  meant  for  the  general  reader, 
old  spelling  is  preserved  only  in  those  few  places  in  which  the 
modernizing  would  disturb  either  the  measure  or  the  rhyme : 
e.g.  —  (pp.  1-2)  herbis,  stalkis,  thingis;  mene  for  moan,  and 
(p.  6)  hert  for  heart.  For  old  spelling  else,  beyond  antiqua- 
rian interest,  I  have  no  more  respect  than  for  printers'  points. 
There  were  no  established  rules  in  those  days :  authors  were 
lawless ;  careless  or  uncertain  even  as  to  their  proper  names. 
"  Our  ancestors,  finding  it  absolutely  impossible  to  adopt  any 
consistent  mode  of  orthography,  fairly  left  it  to  the  discretion 
or  caprice  of  the  several  writers  and  transcribers."  (ELLIS — 
Introductory  Remarks  on  Langriage.)  There  is  applicable 
truth  too  in  the  confession  of  the  printer  of  Sidney's  Arcadia, 
that  "  being  spred  abroade  in  written  coppies  "  (note  here  the 
spelling  revised  !)  much  corruption  had  been  gathered  by  ill 
writers.  For  punctuation,  since  Arber,  Ellis,  Collier  (it  may 
be  closely  following  the  copy  before  them),  to  say  nothing  of 
editors  not  so  accomplished,  do,  sometimes,  play  havoc  with 
their  author's  meaning,  I  have  ventured  to  judge  for  myself; 
and  to  punctuate  according  to  context  and  the  obvious  or 
the  seeming  intention  of  the  writer.  All  important  changes 
will  be  acknowledged  in  the  Notes.  I  ask  the  more  learned 
student's  mercy  where  I  go  wrong. 

New-Haven,  Conn.,  U.  S.  A. 

1882. 


CONTENTS 


PART   I— KNOWN  AUTHORS 


TX/-ILLIAM   DUNBAR   [145.—  1513] 

To  A  LADY i 

ADVICE  TO  LOVERS 2 

JOHN   HEYWOOD   [15..  —15..] 

A  PRAISE  OF  HIS  LADY      .        ....          3 

SIR   THOMAS   WYATT   [1503  —  1542] 

YEA  OR  NAY  .        .'.....        .        .        .5 

DISDAIN  ME  NOT         .        .        ; ,        .        .          6 

THOMAS,   LORD   VAUX    [1510—1557] 

DEATH  IN  LIFE       .  .        .        .        .        .7 

THOMAS   TUSSER   [1515-23—1580] 

SOME   PLEASURES   TAKE 8 

NICOLAS    GRIMAOLD   [1519  ?  —  1563?] 

A  TRUE  LOVE 9 

BARNABE   GOOGE   [1540?— 1594] 

TO   THE   TUNE   OF   APELLES  IO 

ONCE   MUSING   AS    I    SAT  12 


VIII  CONTENTS 


SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY   [1554—1586]  page 

THE  MEETING     .        .        .        .                 .        .  13 

ABSENCE •.  .17 

OPPORTUNITY      .        .        .        ...        .  18 

THE  COLLOQUY      .        .        i        .        .        .  .20 

EPITHALAMIUM    .        .        ....        .  22 

WOOING  STUFF       .        .        .        .        .        .  .26 

RURAL  POESY    .  •      .        .        .        ....  27 

AN  EPITAPH   .        .        .       -.'        .  -      .      • .  .     - 

STELLA  !  THE  FULLNESS  OF  MY  THOUGHTS      .  28 

ALAS  !   HAVE  I  NOT  PAIN  ENOUGH         .         .  .     - 

MY  MUSE  MAY  WELL  GRUDGE  ....  29 

MY  TRUE  LOVE  HATH  MY  HEART         .  .     - 
His  ANSWER  TO  DYER      ...                -30 

SIR   EDWARD    DYER   [1550?— 1607] 

THE  FRIEND'S  REMONSTRANCE      .        .        .  .     - 

THOMAS   WATSON    [i5S7?— 1592] 

ON  SIDNEY'S  DEATH 31 

OF  TIME 

JEALOUS  OF  GANYMEDE     .        .  .32 

THE  Kiss        .  .33 
PHILOMELA          .                ..... 

MY  LOVE  is  PAST  .        .        .        .                .  .    34 

THE  MAY  QUEEN       .                                        .  35 
SONNET  —  Blame  me  not 

ANTHONY   MUNDAY   [1553—1633] 

DIRGE  FOR  ROBIN  HOOD  .  -36 

GEORGE   PEELE    [1558  ?—  1597  ?] 

CUPID'S  CURSE 37 

COLIN'S  SONG     .        .        .        .        .        •        •  38 


CONTENTS  IX 


ROBERT   GREENE   [1560?— 1592]  page 

DORON  AND  CARMELA       .        .        .        .  39 

INFIDA'S  SONG 41 

MENAPHON'S  ROUNDELAY 43 

SWEET  CONTENT    .......    44 

MENAPHON'S  SONG     ......        45 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON    [1563?— 1631] 

WHAT  LOVE  is 46 

ROWLAND'S  ROUNDELAY 47 

SONG  OF  MOTTO  AND  PERKIN      .        .        .        -49 
To  HIS  COY  LOVE      .        ...        .  .        50 

JOHN   DAVIES    [1560-5—1618] 

THE  PICTURE  OF  AN  HAPPY  MAN        .        .        .51 

IN  PRAISE  OF  Music 54 

THE  SHOOTING  STAR     .        .        . 

LOVE'S  BLAZONRY      .        .        ....        .        55 

AN  HELLESPONT  OF  CREAM  .      '.        .        . 

THOMAS    NASH    [1567  —  1601] 

FAIR  SUMMER "56 

GERVASE   MARKHAM   [1566?—  16  .  .  ] 

SIMPLES  .        .        .        . . .        .        .        -57 

JOHN    DONNE   [1573—1631] 

THE  FUNERAL 58 

THE  UNDERTAKING        .        .        .                 .  .59 

BREAK  OF  DAY  .......  60 

BEN  JONSON    [1573—1637] 

EPITHALAMION       .        ...        .        .        .61 

IF  I  FREELY  MAY  DISCOVER       ....        64 

HER  MAN - 

IN  THE  PERSON  OF  WOMANKIND      .  66 


CONTENTS 


JONSON  continued  Page 

BEGGING  ANOTHER N .        67 

SONG  OF  SATYRS 68 

HER  GLOVE •    . 

ON  MARGARET  RATCLIFFE    .        ...  .        .69 

HIS  EXCUSE  FOR  LOVING  .        .        . 

SONG  OF  NIGHT      .        .        .        .        .  .        .70 

FRANCIS    DAVISON   [1575  ?  — 1619?] 

WALTER   DAVISON    [1581  —  1602,6] 

To  URANIA  —  FOR  PARDON       .        .        .        .        71 

URANIA'S  ANSWER 72 

UPON  HER  PROTESTING      .        .        .       „    '    .        74 
ONLY  SHE  PLEASES  HIM        .        .        .        .        .75 

A  COMPARISON * 

To  CUPID 76 

JOHN    FLETCHER   [1579—1625] 
FRANCIS    BEAUMONT   [1585  ?— 1615  ?] 

TELL  ME 77 

WEDDING  SONG          .  •       .        .        .        »        .        78 

FREEDOM  IN  LOVE ..     - 

TRUE  BEAUTY    .......        79 

HYMN  TO  PAN 80 

SONG  FOR  A  DANCE 

ROBERT   BURTON   [1576—1639] 

THE  ABSTRACT  OF  MELANCHOLY          .        .        .81 

WILLIAM    DRUMMOND   [1585  —  1649] 

SEXTAIN 85 

DEATH  NOT  FEARED 86 

MADRIGAL  —  Sweet  Rose  .                 ...  87 


CONTENTS  XI 


DRUMMOND  continued  page 

PLEASANT  DEATH 87 

MADRIGAL  —  A  Daedal  of  my  Death        .         .         .88 

NATHANIEL   FIELD    [15  .  .  —  1638] 

MATIN  SONG      .  , 

JOHN   WEBSTER   [15..  — 16..] 

DIRGE 89 

WILLIAM    BROWNE    [1588—1643] 

VENUS  AND  ADONIS  .        .  .        .        .        90 

ROBERT   HERRICK   [1594—1674] 

THE  TEAR      .        .        .        .        .        .        .        -91 

SWEET  AMARYLLIS     .        .        .        .        .        .        92 

PANSIES 93 

To  DAISIES         .        .        . 

LOVE   MAKES   ALL   LOVELY        .  .  .  .94 

A  VALENTINE     ....... 

To  WATER-NYMPHS       .        .  .        .        -95 

To  ELECTRA       .        .        .        . 

RICHARD   BRATHWAITE   [1588  —  1673] 

A  FIG  FOR  CARE  .  .    ^±^—*        .        .    96 

THOMAS   GOFFE   [1592—1627] 

To  SLEEP 98 

JAMES    SHIRLEY   [1596—1666] 

To  ODELIA - ,        .  -99 

HUE  AND  CRY    .        .  •               ;        .        .        .  100 

To  HIS  MISTRESS  . 101 

SONG  TO  HYMEN        ......  102 

To  ONE  SAYING  SHE  WAS  OLD     ...  .    - 

THE  LOOKING-GLASS          .        ...        .        .  103 

ON  HER  DANCING 


XII  CONTENTS 


WILLIAM    HABINGTON   [1605?  — 1654] 

QUI  QUASI  FLOS  EGREDITUR     .... 

FINE  YOUNG  FOLLY 

THE  PERFECTION  OF  LOVE      .... 

SIR   RICHARD    FANSHAWE   [1607—1666] 

OF  BEAUTY  .        .        .        ...        .        .    108 

EDMUND   WALLER    [1605  —  1687] 

To  A  FAIR  LADY  PLAYING  WITH  A  SNAKE  .        109 

To  MY  YOUNG  LADY  LUCY  SIDNEY    .        .  .    no 
AN  APOLOGY  FOR  HAVING  LOVED  BEFORE 

To  A  LADY  FOR  A  LOST  POEM  .        .        .  .    in 

STAY,  PHCEBUS  !        .        .  ^  .        .        .  .         112 

SIR  JOHN    SUCKLING    [1608-9—1642] 

A  BALLAD  OF  A  WEDDING          .        .        .        -113 

LOVING  AMISS 118 

A  HEALTH 119 

BARLEY-BREAK.        .        .        .        .        .        .        120 

THOMAS    NABBES    [1612?— 1645] 

HER  REAL  WORTH       .        .        .        .        .        .121 

JOSEPH    RUTTER   [16.  .  —  I  .  .  .  ] 

SONG  OF  VENUS       .       .       ...       .  122 

MARRIAGE  HYMN 123 

RICHARD   CRASHAW   [1615—1652] 

WISHES 124 

RICHARD    LOVELACE   [1618—1658] 

THE  GRASSHOPPER       .        .        .        .        .        .129 

SIR   EDWARD    SHERBURNE    [1618—17..] 

THE  HEART-MAGNET       .....        131 
FALSE  LYCORIS 132 


CONTENTS  XIII 


ANDREW   MARVELL   [1621  —  1678] 

THE  PICTURE  OF  LITTLE  T.  C.       .        .        .  133 

A  DEFINITION  OF  LOVE 134 

CLORINDA  AND  DAMON 136 

THE  FAIR  SINGER 138 

MAKING  HAY-ROPES 139 

ALEXANDER   BROME   [1620—1666] 

PALINODE .        .    140 

RICHARD   BROME   [16  .  .  —  1652] 

BEGGARS'  SONG        .        .        .        .        .        .        142 

HENRY  VAUGHAN    [1621  —  1695] 

EPITHALAMIUM      .       »,        .        ...        .        .    143 

THOMAS    STANLEY    [1625  —  1678] 

SONG  —  I  prithee  let  my  heart  alone  .         .        .  145 

NIGHT 146 

A  Kiss  I  BEGG'D 147 

JOHN   HALL  [1627—1656] 

EPITAPH 

R.    FLETCHER   [16..— i...] 

AN  EPITAPH 148 

RICHARD   FLECKNOE   [16.  .  — 1678  ?] 

CHLORIS        ........    149 

JOHN   BULTEEL   [16.  ..  — 1669] 

SONG  —  I  grant  your  eyes  are  far  more  bright    .         150 


XIV  CONTENTS 


PART  II— AUTHORS    UNKNOWN 


TOTTEL'S    MISCELLANY    1557  page 

THE  MEAN  ESTATE  HAPPIEST         .        .        .         153 
HE  WISHETH  DEATH 154 

LOVE'S    DlSDAINER 155 

WHERE  GOOD  WILL  is 157 

PROMISE  OF  A  CONSTANT  LOVER    .        .        .  158 

EACH  THING  HURT  OF  ITSELF      .        .        .  -159 
OF  A  ROSEMARY  BRANCH  SENT 

OF  THE  CHOICE  OF  A  WIFE        .        .        .  .160 

OTHERS  PREFERRED          161 

No  JOY  HAVE  I    .        .        .        .        .        .  .    162 

OF  THE  GOLDEN  MEAN    .        .        .                .  163 

THE  PRAISE  OF  A  TRUE  FRIEND        .        . '  164 

THE   PARADISE    OF    DAINTY   DEVICES    1576 

LIFE'S  STAY 165 

THE  LOST  FRIEND       .        .        .        .        .        .166 

MAY  .  .        .        .        .        .  .        168 

BYRD'S    SET    SONGS    1587-9 

RIGHT  CAREFULNESS 169 

LOVE'S  ARROWS        .        .        .                .        .  170 

LOVE'S  QUALITIES 171 

CUPID'S  DELIVERANCE 172 

THE  HERD-MAN'S  HAPPY  LIFE    .... 

PHILON  THE  SHEPHERD  —  HIS  SONG       .        .  174 

BROWN  is  MY  LOVE     .       .       .        .        .        .  175 

CYNTHIA   . 


CONTENTS  XV 


THE   PHCENIX   NEST    1593  page 

THE  ANATOMY  OF  LOVE          .        .        .     '   .        176 

To  NIGHT 177 

SET  ME  WHERE  PHCEBUS          .        .        .        .         178 

DOWLAND'S    SONG   BOOKS    1596-1603 

THE  LOVER'S  DESPAIR         .        .        .        .        .179 

LOVE  AND  SORROW  .        .  ,     .        .        .        .  180 

SERENADE     ... 181 

CONSTANCY        .......  182 

To  CYNTHIA 183 

LOVE'S  MESSENGERS 

WEEP  YOU  NO  MORE 184 

WHITE  AS  LILIES 185 

EYES  AND  HEARTS 187 

FALSE  ASTRONOMY 188 

THE  HERMIT'S  SONG    .        .        .        .        .        .189 

LOVE  AND  FORTUNE 190 

His  LADY'S  GRIEF 191 

SONG  OF  HOPE 192 

WOEFUL  HEART  .        .        .              ~ .  .     .        .  - 

His  MISTRESS'  BEAUTY   .        .        .                .  193 
LOVE  AND  FOLLY          .        .        •  J^— •- 

THE  PEDLAR'S  SONG       v"      .        .        .        .  194 

MORLEY'S  BALLETS  AND  MADRIGALS  1595-1600 

DEFIANCE  TO  LOVE 195 

MY  DAINTY  DARLING 

FALSE  CLARINDA          .        .        .        .        .        .196 

FALSE  DORUS  . 197 

WILBYE'S    MADRIGALS    1598-1609 

DAPHNE 

THE  JEWEL 198 

LIPS  AND  ROSES  .  - 


XVI  CONTENTS 


WILBYE   continued 

COME,  SHEPHERD  SWAINS  ....  198 
LOVE  ME  NOT  FOR  COMELY  GRACE  .  .  -199 
SWEET  NIGHT 

WEELKES'  BALLETS  AND   MADRIGALS    1598 

THIRSIS 200 

SPRING  SONG 

HOLD  OUT,  MY  HEART 201 

FARMER'S   ENGLISH    MADRIGALS    1599 

TIME  NOT  TO  BE  LOST 

THE  COY  MAIDEN'S  CONSENT  ....  202 
FAIR  PHILLIS  .  * 

BATESON'S    MADRIGALS    1604-1606 

SISTER,  AWAKE  !  .        .        .        ...        .  203 

WHITHER  so  FAST  ? 

FORDE'S    MUSIC   OF   SUNDRY   KINDS    1607 

LOVE  TILL  DEATH        .  .        .        .        .    204 

A  MISTRESS  DESCRIBED   .     -  .     .  .        .        .        205 

SINCE  FIRST    I   SAW  YOUR   FACE  .  .  .  .     206 

CAMPION'S   AIRS    1602 

THE  RIGHT  OF  BEAUTY 207 

DEUTEROMELIA    1609 

THREE  POOR  MARINERS 208 

MELISMATA    1611 

THE  THREE  RAVENS        ..... 

PILKINGTON'S   MADRIGALS    1612 

HAVE  I  FOUND  HER  ? 209 

ENGLAND'S    HELICON    1600 

PHILLIDA  AND  CORYDON  .  .  .  .  210 
BEAUTY  SAT  BATHING  .  .  212 


CONTENTS  XVII 


DAVISON'S    POETICAL   RHAPSODY    1602  page 

WHERE  HIS  LADY  KEEPS  HER  HEART    .        .  213 
THE  TOMB  OF  DEAD  DESIRE      ....    214 

HOPELESS  DESIRE 215 

NATURAL  COMPARISONS 216 

IN  PRAISE  OF  THE  SUN 

BEGGARS'  SONG    .        .        .        .        .        .  .217 

IF  WRONG  BY  FORCE 218 

WIT'S    RECREATIONS    1654 

ON  A  BEAUTIFUL  VIRGIN     .        .       ,..'      .  .219 

ON  CHLORIS  WALKING  IN  THE  SNOW      .        .  220 

ON  HIS  MISTRESS         .        .        ...  .     - 

WIT   RESTORED    1658 

PHILLADA                                                    .        .  221 


NOTES 225 


PART  I— KNOWN  AUTHORS 


INHERITORS  OF  UNFULFILL'D  RENOWN 
SHELLEY 


TO  A   LADY 

OWEET  ROSE  of  virtue  and  of  gentleness, 

**— 'Delightsome  Lily  of  every  lustiness, 
Richest  in  bounty  and  in  beauty  clear 
And  every  virtue  that  to  heaven  is  dear, 
Except  only  that  ye  are  merciless  ! 

Into  your  garth  this  day  I  did  pursue  : 
There  saw  I  flowers  that  fresh  were  of  hue, 
Both  white  and  red  most  lusty  were  to  seen, 
And  wholesome  herbis  upon  stalkis  green ; 
Yet  leaf  nor  flower  find  could  I  none  of  Rue. 

I  doubt  that  March,  with  his  cold  blastis  keen, 
Has  slain  this  gentle  herb  that  I  of  mene  : 
Whose  piteous  death  does  to  my  heart  such  pain 
That  I  would  make  to  plant  his  root  again, 
So  comforting  his  leaves  unto  me  been. 


DUNBAR 


ADVICE   TO  LOVERS 

IF  ye  would  love  and  loved  be, 
In  mind  keep  well  these  thingis  three, 
And  sadly  in  thy  breast  imprent,  — 
Be  secret,  true,  and  patient ! 

For  he  that  patience  can  not  leir, 
He  shall  displeasance  have  perquier, 
Though  he  had  all  this  worldis  rent : 
Be  secret,  true,  and  patient ! 

For  who  that  secret  can  not  be, 
Him  all  good  fellowship  shall  flee, 
And  credence  none  shall  him  be  lent : 
Be  secret,  true,  and  patient ! 

And  he  that  is  of  heart  untrue, 
From  he  be  ken'd,  farewell !  adieu  ! 
Fie  on  him  !  fie  !  his  fame  is  went : 
Be  secret,  true,  and  patient ! 

Thus  he  that  wants  ane  of  these  three 
Ane  lover  glad  may  never  be, 
But  aye  in  some  thing  discontent : 
Be  secret,  true,  and  patient ! 

Nought  with  thy  tongue  thyself  discure 
The  thingis  thou  hast  of  nature  ; 
For  if  thou  dost,  thou  should  repent : 
Be  secret,  true,  and  patient ! 


JOHN    HEYWOOD 


A  PRAISE   OF  HIS  LADY 

IVE  PLACE,  you  Ladies  !  and  begone ; 

Boast  not  yourselves  at  all ! 
For  here  at  hand  approacheth  One 

Whose  face  will  stain  you  all. 

The  virtue  of  her  lively  looks 

Excels  the  precious  stone  ; 
I  wish  to  have  none  other  books 

To  read  or  look  upon. 

In  each  of  her  two  crystal  eyes 

Smileth  a  naked  boy  : 
It  would  you  all  in  heart  suffice 

To  see  that  lamp  of  joy. 

I  think  Nature  hath  lost  the  mould 
Where  She  her  shape  did  take ; 

Or  else  I  doubt  if  Nature  could 
So  fair  a  creature  make. 

She  may  be  very  well  compared 

Unto  the  Phoenix  kind, 
Whose  like  was  never  seen  or  heard 

That  any  man  can  find. 

In  life  she  is  Diana  chaste, 

In  truth  Penelope  ; 
In  word  and  eke  in  deed  steadfast : 

What  will  you  more  we  say  ? 


HEYWOOD 


If  all  the  world  were  sought  so  far, 
Who  could  find  such  a  wight  ? 

Her  beauty  twinkleth  like  a  star 
Within  the  frosty  night. 

Her  ro*siall  colour  comes  and  goes 
With  such  a  comely  grace, 

More  readier  too  than  doth  the  rose, 
Within  her  lively  face. 

At  Bacchus'  feast  none  shall  her  meet, 

Ne  at  no  wanton  play, 
Nor  gazing  in  an  open  street, 

Nor  gadding  as  a  stray. 

The  modest  mirth  that  she  doth  use 
Is  mix'd  with  shamefacedness  ; 

All  vice  she  doth  wholly  refuse, 
And  hateth  idleness. 

O  Lord  !  it  is  a  world  to  see 

How  virtue  can  repair 
And  deck  in  her  such  honesty 

Whom  Nature  made  so  fair. 

Truly  She  doth  as  far  exceed 

Our  women  now-a-days 
As  doth  the  gillyflower  a  weed, 

And  more  a  thousand  ways. 

How  might  I  do  to  get  a  graff 

Of  this  unspotted  tree  ? 
For  all  the  rest  are  plain  but  chaff 

Which  seem  good  corn  to  be. 


HEYWOOD 


This  gift  alone  I  shall  her  give  : 
When  Death  doth  what  he  can, 

Her  honest  fame  shall  ever  live 
Within  the  mouth  of  man. 


SIR   THOMAS   WYATT 


M 


YEA   OR  NAY 

ADAM  !     Withouten  many  words,  — 
Once  I  am  sure  you  will,  or  no  : 
And  if  you  will,  then  leave  your  boordes 
And  use  your  wit  and  show  it  so  ! 


For  with  a  beck  you  shall  me  call ; 

And  if  of  One  that  burns  alway 
Ye  have  pitie  or  ruth  at  all, 

Answer  him  fair  with  Yea  or  Nay  ! 

If  it  be  Yea,  I  shall  be  fain ; 

If  it  be  Nay,  friends  as  before, 
You  shall  another  man  obtain, 

And  I,  mine  own,  be  yours  no  more. 


WYATT 


DISDAIN  ME  NOT! 

The  Lover  prayeth  not  to  be  disdained,  refused,  mistrusted, 
nor  forsaken. 


ISDAIN  me  not  without  desert  ! 
-•  —  'Nor  leave  me  not  so  suddenly  ! 
Since  well  ye  wot  that  in  my  hert 
I  mean  ye  not  but  honestly. 

Refuse  me  not  without  cause  why  ! 

Forethink  me  not,  to  be  unjust  ! 
Since  that  by  lot  of  fantasy 

This  careful  knot  needs  knit  I  must.    . 

Mistrust  me  not  !  though  some  there  be 
That  fain  would  spot  my  steadfastness. 

Believe  them  not  !  since  that  ye  see 
The  proof  is  not  as  they  express. 

Forsake  me  not  till  I  deserve  ! 

Nor  hate  me  not  till  I  offend  ! 
Destroy  me  not  till  that  I  swerve, 

But  since  ye  know  what  I  intend  ! 

Disdain  me  not  that  am  your  own  ! 

Refuse  me  not  that  am  so  true  ! 
Mistrust  me  not  till  all  be  known  ! 

Forsake  me  not,  ne  for  no  new  ! 


THOMAS,   LORD    VAUX 


DEATH  IN  LIFE 

TT  OW  can  the  tree  but  waste  and  wither  away 
•*•  -'-That  hath  not  sometime  comfort  of  the  sun? 
And  can  the  flower  but  fade  and  soon  decay 
That  always  is  with  dark  clouds  overrun? 
Is  this  a  life  ?     Nay  !  death  I  may  it  call, 
That  feels  each  pain  and  knows  no  joy  at  all. 

What  foodless  beast  can  live  long  in  good  plight  ? 

Or  is  it  life  where  senses  there  be  none  ? 
Or  what  availeth  eyes  without  their  sight? 

Or  else  a  tongue  to  him  that  is-  alone  ? 
Is  this  a  life  ?  Nay  !  death  I  may  it  call, 
That  feels  each  pain  and  knows  no  joy  at  all. 

Whereto  serve  ears  if  that  there  be  no  sound  ? 

Or  such  a  head  where  no  device  doth  grow 
But  all  of  plaints,  since  sorrow  is  the  ground 

Whereby  the  heart  doth  pine  in  deadly  woe  ? 
Is  this  a  life  ?     Nay  !  death  I  may  it  call, 
That  feels  each  pain  and  knows  no  joy  at  all. 


OOME  pleasures  take 
^— '  And  can  not  give, 
But  only  make 

Poor  thanks  their  gift ; 
Some,  meaning  well, 

In  debt  do  live, 
And  can  not  tell 
Where  else  to  shift. 

Some  knock,  and  fain 

Would  ope  the  door, 
To  learn  the  vain 

Good  turn  to  praise  ; 
Some  shew  poor  face, 

And  be  but  poor, 
Yet  have  a  grace 

Good  fame  to  raise. 

Some  owe  and  give 

Yet  still  in  debt, 
And  so  must  live, 

For  aught  I  know ; 
Some  wish  to  pay, 

And  can  not  get, 
But  night  and  day 

Must  still  more  owe. 

Even  so  must  I,  for  service  past, 
Still  wish  you  good  while  life  doth  last. 


NICOLAS   GRIMAOLD 


A    TRUE  LOVE 

WHAT  sweet  relief  the  showers  to  thirsty  plants  we  see, 

What  dear  delight  the  blooms  to  bees,  my  true  Love  is  to  me  ; 

As  fresh  and  lusty  Ver  foul  Winter  doth  exceed, 

As  morning  bright  with  scarlet  sky  doth  pass  the  evening's  weed, 

As  mellow  pears  above  harsh  crabs  esteemed  be, 

So  doth  my  Love  surmount  them  all  whom  yet  I  hap  to  see. 

The  oak  shall  olives  bear,  the  lamb  the  lion  fray, 

The  owl  shall  match  the  nightingale  in  tuning  of  her  lay, 

Or  I  my  Love  let  slip  out  of  mine  entire  heart : 

So  deep  reposed  in  my  breast  is  She  for  her  desert. 

For  many  blessed  gifts,  O  happy,  happy  land  ! 

Where  Mars  and  Pallas  strive  to  make  their  glory  most  to  stand  ; 

Yet,  land  !  more  is  thy  bliss  that  in  this  cruel  age 

A  Venus  imp  thou  hast  brought  forth,  so  steadfast  and  so  sage. 

Among  the  Muses  nine  a  tenth  if  Jove  would  make, 

And  to  the  Graces  three  a  fourth,  Her  would  Apollo  take. 

Let  some  for  honour  hunt,  or  hoard  the  massy  gold  : 

With  Her  so  I  may  live  and  die,  my  weal  can  not  be  told. 


BARNABE   GOOGE 


TO   THE   TUNE   OF  APELLES 

'  I  ^HE  rushing  rivers  that  do  run, 
•*•  The  vallies  sweet  adorned  new 
That  lean  their  sides  against  the  sun, 
With  flowers  fresh  of  sundry  hue, 
Both  ash  and  elm,  and  oak  so  high, 
Do  all  lament  my  woeful  cry. 

While  winter  black  with  hideous  storms 
Doth  spoil  the  ground  of  summer's  green, 

While  spring-time  sweet  the  leaf  returns 
That  late  on  tree  could  not  be  seen, 

While  summer  burns,  while  harvest  reigns, 

Still,  still  do  rage  my  restless  pains. 

No  end  I  find  in  all  my  smart, 

But  endless  torment  I  sustain, 
Since  first,  alas  !  my  woeful  heart 

By  sight  of  thee  was  forced  to  plain,  — 
Since  that  I  lost  my  liberty, 
Since  that  thou  madest  a  slave  of  me. 

My  heart,  that  once  abroad  was  free, 
Thy  beauty  hath  in  durance  brought ; 

Once  reason  ruled  and  guided  me, 

And  now  is  wit  consumed  with  thought ; 

Once  I  rejoiced  above  the  sky, 
And  now  for  thee,  alas  !  I  die. 


GOOGE  1 1 

Once  I  rejoiced  in  company, 

And  now  my  chief  and  sole  delight 

Is  from  my  friends  away  to  fly 

And  keep  alone  my  wearied  sprite. 

Thy  face  divine  and  my  desire 

From  flesh  have  me  transform'd  to  fire. 

O  Nature  !  thou  that  first  didst  frame 

My  Lady's  hair  of  purest  gold, 
Her  face  of  crystal  to  the  same, 

Her  lips  of  precious  rubies'  mould, 
Her  neck  of  alabaster  white,  — 
Surmounting  far  each  other  wight : 

Why  didst  thou  not  that  time  devise, 
Why  didst  thou  not  foresee,  before 

The  mischief  that  thereof  doth  rise 

And  grief  on  grief  doth  heap,  with  store, 

To  make  her  heart  of  wax  alone 

And  not  of  flint  and  marble  stone  ? 

O  Lady  !  show  thy  favour  yet : 

Let  not  thy  servant  die  for  thee  ! 
Where  Rigour  ruled  let  Mercy  sit ! 

Let  Pity  conquer  Cruelty  ! 
Let  not  Disdain,  a  fiend  of  hell, 
Possess  the  place  where  Grace  should  dwell ! 


12  GOOGE 

ONCE  MUSING  AS  I  SAT, 
And  candle  burning  by, 
When  all  were  hush'd,  I  might  discern 

A  simple  sely  Fly, 
That  flew  before  mine  eyes, 

With  free  rejoicing  heart, 
And  here  and  there  with  wings  did  play, 

As  void  of  pain  and  smart. 
Sometime  by  me  she  sat 

When  she  had  play'd  her  fill ; 
And  ever  when  she  rested  had 

About  she  flutter'd  still. 
When  I  perceived  her  well 

Rejoicing  in  her  place, 

0  happy  Fly  !  quoth  I,  and  eke 

0  worm  in  happy  case  ! 
Which  of  us  two  is  best  ? 

1  that  have  reason  ?     No  : 
But  thou  that  reason  art  without, 

And  therewith  void  of  woe. 

1  live,  and  so  dost  thou ; 

But  I  live  all  in  pain, 
And  subject  am  to  Her,  alas  ! 

That  makes  my  grief  her  gain. 
Thou  livest,  but  feel'st  no  grief; 

No  love  doth  thee  torment. 
A  happy  thing  for  me  it  were 

(If  God  were  so  content) 
That  thou  with  pen  wert  placed  here 

And  I  sat  in  thy  place  : 
Then  I  should  joy  as  thou  dost  now, 

And  thou  shoulclst  wail  thy  case. 


SIR  PHILIP   SIDNEY 


THE  MEETING 

TN  A  GROVE,  most  rich  of  shade, 
-•-Where  birds  wanton  music  made, 
May,  then  young,  his  pied  weeds  showing, 
New-perfumed  with  flowers  fresh  growing, 

Astrophel  with  Stella  sweet 
Did  for  mutual  comfort  meet, 
Both  within  themselves  oppressed, 
But  each  in  the  other  blessed. 

Him  great  harms  had  taught  much  care, 
Her  fair  neck  a  foul  yoke  bare  ; 
But  her  sight  his  cares  did  banish, 
In  his  sight  her  yoke  did  vanish. 

Wept  they  had,  alas  the  while  ! 
But  now  tears  themselves  did  smile, 
While  their  eyes,  by  love  directed, 
Interchangeably  reflected. 

Sigh  they  did  :  but  now  betwixt 
Sighs  of  woe  were  glad  sighs  mix'd ; 
With  arms  cross'd,  yet  testifying 
Restless  rest,  and  living  dying. 


14  SIDNEY 

Their  ears  hungry  of  each  word 
Which  the  dear  tongue  would  afford, 
But  their  tongues  restrain'd  from  walking 
Till  their  hearts  had  ended  talking. 

But,  when  their  tongues  could  not  speak, 
Love  itself  did  silence  break ; 
Love  did  set  his  lips  asunder, 
Thus  to  speak  in  love  and  wonder. 

Stella  !  sovereign  of  my  joy, 
Fair  triumpher  of  annoy  ! 
Stella,  star  of  heavenly  fire  ! 
Stella,  loadstar  of  desire  ! 

Stella,  in  whose  shining  eyes 

Are  the  lights  of  Cupid's  skies, 

Whose  beams,  where  they  once  are  darted, 

Love  therewith  is  straight  imparted  ! 

Stella,  whose  voice,  when  it  speaks, 
Senses  all  asunder  breaks  ! 
Stella,  whose  voice,  when  it  singeth, 
Angels  to  acquaintance  bringeth  ! 

Stella,  in  whose  body  is 
Writ  each  character  of  bliss  ; 
Whose  face  all  all  beauty  passeth, 
Save  thy  mind,  which  yet  surpassed! ! 

Grant,  O  grant, but  speech,  alas  ! 

Fails  me,  fearing  on  to  pass ; 
Grant,  —  O  me  !  what  am  I  saying? 
But  no  fault  there  is  in  praying  : 


SIDNEY  15 

Grant  —  O  Dear  !  on  knees  I  pray, 
(Knees  on  ground  he  then  did  stay), 
That,  not  I,  but  since  I  love  you, 
Time  and  place  for  me  may  move  you. 

Never  season  was  more  fit ; 

Never  room  more  apt  for  it ; 

Smiling  air  allows  my  reason  ; 

These  birds  sing —  "  Now  use  the  season  ! " 

This  small  wind,  which  so  sweet  is, 
See  how  it  the  leaves  doth  kiss  ! 
Each  tree  in  its  best  attiring, 
Sense  of  love  to  love  inspiring. 

Love  makes  earth  the  water  drink ; 
Love  to  earth  makes  water  sink; 
And,  if  dumb  things  be  so  witty, 
Shall  a  heavenly  grace  want  pity  ? 

There  his  hands,  in  their  speech,  fain 
Would  have  made  tongue's  language  plain  ; 
But  her  hands,  his  hands  repelling, 
Gave  repulse1  all  grace  excelling. 

Then  she  spake  :  her  speech  was  such 
As  not  ears  but  heart  did  touch ; 
While  such  wise  she  love  denied 
As  yet  love  she  signified. 

Astrophel !  said  she,  —  my  love 

Cease  in  these  effects  to  prove  ! 

Now  be  still !  yet  still  believe  me, 

Thy  grief  more  than  death  would  grieve  me. 


l6  SIDNEY 

If  that  any  thought  in  me 
Can  taste  comfort  but  of  thee, 
Let  me,  fed  with  hellish  anguish, 
Joyless,  hopeless,  endless  languish  ! 

If  those  eyes  you  praised  be 
Half  so  dear  as  you  to  me, 
Let  me  home  return  stark-blinded 
Of  those  eyes,  and  blinder-minded  ! 

If  to  secret  of  my  heart 

I  do  any  wish  impart 

Where  thou  art  not  foremost  placed, 

Be  both  wish  and  I  defaced  ! 

If  more  may  be  said,  I  say  : 

All  my  bliss  in  thee  I  lay  : 

If  thou  love,  my  love  content  thee  ! 

For  all  love,  all  faith  is  meant  thee. 

Trust  me,  while  I  thee  deny, 
In  myself  the  smart  I  try ; 
Tyrant  Honour  doth  thus  use  thee ; 
Stella's  self  might  not  refuse  thee. 

Therefore,  Dear  !  this  no  more  move, 
Lest,  though  I  leave  not  thy  love, 
Which  too  deep  in  me  is  framed, 
I  should  blush  when  thou  art  named  ! 

Therewithal  away  she  went, 
Leaving  him  so  passion-rent 
With  what  she  had  done  and  spoken, 
That  therewith  my  song  is  broken. 


O 


SIDNEY 


ABSENCE 

DEAR  LIFE  !   when  shall  it  be 
That  mine  eyes  thine  eyes  shall  see, 

And  in  them  thy  mind  discover  : 
Whether  absence  have  had  force 
Thy  remembrance  to  divorce 

From  the  image  of  thy  lover  ? 

O,  if  I  myself  find  not 
After  parting  aught  forgot 

Nor  debarr'd  from  Beauty's  treasure, 
Let  not  tongue  aspire  to  tell 
In  what  high  joys  I  shall  dwell  ! 

Only  thought  aims  at  the  pleasure. 

Thought  !  therefore  I  will  send  thee 
To  take  up  the  place  for  me  ; 

Long  I  will  not  after  tarry  : 
There,  unseen,  thou  may'st  be  bold 
Those  fair  wonders  to  behold 

Which  in  them  my  hopes  do  carry. 

Thought  !  see  thou  no  place  forbear  ! 
Enter  bravely  everywhere  ! 

Seize  on  all  to  her  belonging  ! 
But  if  thou  wouldst  guarded  be, 
Her  beams  fearing,  take  with  thee 

Strength  of  liking,  rage  of  longing  ! 

Think  of  that  most  grateful  time, 
When  my  leaping  heart  will  climb 
In  my  lips  to  have  his  biding  : 


1 8  SIDNEY 

There  those  roses  for  to  kiss, 
Which  do  breathe  a  sugar'd  bliss, 
Opening  rubies,  pearls  dividing  ! 

Think  of  my  most  princely  power, 
Which,  I  blessed,  shall  devour 

With  my  greedy  licorous  senses 
Beauty,  music,  sweetness,  love, 
While  she  doth  against  me  prove 

Her  strong  darts  but  weak  defences  ! 

Think,  think  of  those  dallyings 
When,  with  dove-like  murmurings, 

With  glad  moaning,  passed  anguish, 
We  change  eyes  and,  heart  for  heart, 
Each  to  other  do  depart 

Joying  till  joy  makes  us  languish  ! 

O,  my  Thought !  thy  thoughts  surcease  ! 
Thy  delights  my  woes  increase ; 

My  life  melts  with  too  much  thinking 
Think  no  more,  —  but  die  in  me 
Till  thou  shalt  revived  be, 

At  her  lips  my  nectar  drinking  ! 

OPPORTUNITY 

ONLY  JOY  !  now  here  you  are, 
Fit  to  hear  and  ease  my  care, 
Let  my  whispering  voice  obtain 
Sweet  reward  for  sharpest  pain  : 
Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me  !  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  !" 


SIDNEY  IQ 

Night  hath  closed  all  in  her  cloak ; 
Twinkling  stars  love-thoughts  provoke  ; 
Danger  hence  good  care  doth  keep  ; 
Jealousy  himself  doth  sleep  : 
Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me  !  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 

Better  place  no  wit  can  find, 
Cupid's  knot  to  loose  or  bind  ; 
These  sweet  flowers,  our  fine  bed,  too 
Us  in  their  best  language  woo  : 
Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me ;  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 

This  small  light  the  moon  bestows 
Serves  thy  beams  but  to  disclose, 
So  to  raise  my  hap  more  high ; 
Fear  not,  else  none  can  us  spy  : 
Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me  !  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 

That  you  heard  was  but  a  mouse  ; 
Dumb  sleep  holdeth  all  the  house  ; 
Yet  asleep,  methinks  they  say  — 
Young  fools  !  take  time  while  you  may  : 
Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me  !  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  !  " 

Niggard  Time  threats,  if  we  miss 

This  large  offer  of  our  bliss, 

Long  stay  ere  he  grant  the  same  : 

Sweet !  then,  while  each  thing  doth  frame, 

Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me  !  — 


2O  SIDNEY 

"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 

Your  fair  mother  is  a-bed, 
Candles  out  and  curtains  spread ; 
She  thinks  you  do  letters  write ; 
Write,  but  let  me  first  indite  : 
Take  me  to  thee,  and  thee  to  me  !  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 

Sweet !  alas  !  why  strive  you  thus  ? 
Concord  better  fitteth  us ; 
Leave  to  Mars  the  force  of  hands  ; 
Your  power  in  your  beauty  stands  : 
Take  thee  to  me,  and  me  to  thee  !  — 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 

Woe  to  me,  and  do  you  swear 
Me  to  hate  but  I  forbear? 
Cursed  be  my  destines  all, 
That  brought  me  so  high  to  fall ! 
Soon  with  my  death  I  will  please  thee  • 
"  No,  no,  no,  no,  my  Dear  !  let  be  ! " 


THE   COLLOQUY 

"  "\  A  7"HO  is  it  that  this  dark  night 

V  V  Underneath  my  window  plaineth?" 
It  is  one  who,  from  thy  sight 
Being,  ah  !  exiled,  disdaineth 
Every  other  vulgar  light. 

"  Why,  alas  !  and  are  you  he  ? 


SIDNEY  21 

Be  not  yet  those  fancies  changed  ?  "  — 
Dear  !  when  you  find  change  in  me, 
Though  from  me  you  be  estranged, 
Let  my  change  to  ruin*  be  ? 

"  Well,  in  absence  this  will  die  : 

Leave  to  see,  and  leave  to  wonder  ! "  — 

Absence  sure  will  help  if  I 

Can  learn  how  myself  to  sunder 

From  what  in  my  heart  doth  lie. 

"  But  time  will  these  thoughts  remove  : 
Time  doth  work  what  no  man  knoweth."  — 

Time  doth  as  the  subject  prove  : 

With  time  still  affection  groweth 

In  the  faithful  turtle  dove. 

"  What  if  we  new  beauties  see  ? 

Will  not  they  stir  new  affection  ?  "  — 
I  will  think  they  pictures  be, 
(Image-like  of  saints'  perfection) 
Poorly  counterfeiting  thee. 

"  But  your  reason's  purer  light 

Bids  you  leave  such  minds  to  nourish."  — 

Dear  !  do  reason  no  such  spite  : 

Never  doth  thy  beauty  flourish 

More  than  in  my  reason's  sight. 

"  But  the  wrongs  love  bears  will  make 
Love  at  length  leave  undertaking."  — 

No  !  the  more  fools  it  do  shake 

In  a  ground  of  so  firm  making, 

Deeper  still  they  drive  the  stake. 


22  SIDNEY 

"  Peace  !    I  think  that  some  give  ear ; 

Come  no  more,  lest  I  get  anger  ! "  — 
Bliss  !    I  will  my  bliss  forbear, 
Fearing,  Sweet !  you  to  endanger ; 
But  my  soul  shall  harbour  there. 

"  Well,  begone  !  begone  !  I  say : 
Lest  that  Argus  eyes  perceive  you."  — 
O,  unjust  is  Fortune's  sway 
Which  can  make  me  thus  to  leave  you, 
And  from  louts  to  run  away. 


EPITHALAMIUM 

LET  Mother  Earth  now  deck  herself  in  flowers, 
To  see  her  offspring  seek  a  good  increase, 
Where  justest  love  doth  vanquish  Cupid's  powers, 
And  war  of  thoughts  is  swallow'd  up  in  peace, 
Which  never  may  decrease, 
But,  like  the  turtles  fair, 
Live  one  in  two,  a  well-united  pair : 
Which  that  no  chance  may  stain, 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

O  Heaven  !  awake,  show  forth  thy  stately  face ; 
Let  not  these  slumbering  clouds  thy  beauties  hide, 
But  with  thy  cheerful  presence  help  to  grace 
The  honest  Bridegroom  and  the  bashful  Bride, 

Whose  loves  may  ever  bide, 

Like  to  the  elm  and  vine, 
With  mutual  embracements  them  to  twine  : 


SIDNEY  23 

In  which  delightful  pain, 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

Ye  Muses  all !  which  chaste  affecls  allow 
And  have  to  Thyrsis  shown  your  secret  skill, 
To  this  chaste  love  your  sacred  favours  bow ; 
And  so  to  him  and  her  your  gifts  distill 
That  they  all  vice  may  kill 
And,  like  to  lilies  pure, 
May  please  all  eyes,  and  spotless  may  endure  : 

Where  that  all  bliss  may  reign, 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

Ye  Nymphs  which  in  the  waters  empire  have  ! 
Since  Thyrsis'  music  oft  doth  yield  you  praise, 
Grant  to  the  thing  which  we  for  Thyrsis  crave  : 
Let  one  time  —  but  long  first  —  close  up  their  days, 
One  grave  their  bodies  seize  ; 
And,  like  two  rivers  sweet 
When  they  though  divers  do  together  meet, 

One  stream  both  streams  contain  ! 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

Pan  !  father  Pan,  the  god  of  silly  sheep  ! 
Whose  care  is  cause  that  they  in  number  grow,  — 
Have  much  more  care  of  them  that  'them  do  keep, 
Since  from  these  good  the  others'  good  doth  flow ; 

And  make  their  issue  show 

In  number  like  the  herd 
Of  younglings  which  thyself  with  love  hast  rear'd, 

Or  like  the  drops  of  rain  ! 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 


24  SIDNEY 

Virtue,  if  not  a  God,  yet  God's  chief  part  ! 
Be  thou  the  knot  of  this  their  open  vow  : 
That  still  he  be  her  head,  she  be  his  heart ; 
He  lean  to  her,  she  unto  him  do  bow ; 

Each  other  still  allow ; 

Like  oak  and  misletoe, 
Her  strength  from  him,  his  praise  from  her  do  grow  ! 

In  which  most  lovely  train, 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

But  thou,  foul  Cupid,  sire  to  lawless  lust ! 
Be  thou  far  hence  with  thy  empoison'd  dart, 
Which,  though  of  glittering  gold,  shall  here  take  rust, 
Where  simple  love,  which  chasteness  doth  impart, 
Avoids  thy  hurtful  art, 
Not  needing  charming  skill 
Such  minds  with  sweet  affeclions  for  to  fill : 

Which  being  pure  and  plain, 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

All  churlish  words,  shrewd  answers,  crabbed  looks, 
All  privateness,  self-seeking,  inward  spite, 
All  waywardness  which  nothing  kindly  brooks, 
All  strife  for  toys  and  claiming  master's  right, 
Be  hence  aye  put  to  flight ; 
All  stirring  husband's  hate 
'Gainst  neighbours  good  for  womanish  debate 

Be  fled  :  as  things  most  vain  ! 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

All  peacock  pride  and  fruits  of  peacock's  pride, 
Longing  to  be  with  loss  of  substance  gay, 


SIDNEY  25 

With  recklessness  what  may  the  house  betide 
So  that  you  may  on  higher  slippers  stay, 
For  ever  hence  away  ! 
Yet  let  not  sluttery, 
The  sink  of  filth,  be  counted  housewifery, 

But  keeping  whole  your  main  ! 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

But  above  all,  away  vile  jealousy, 
The  evil  of  evils,  just  cause  to  be  unjust ! 
How  can  he  love,  suspecting  treachery? 
How  can  she  love,  where  love  can  not  win  trust  ? 
Go,  snake  !  hide  thee  in  dust ; 
Nor  dare  once  show  thy  face 
Where  open  hearts  do  hold  so  constant  place 

That  they  thy  sting  restrain  ! 
O  Hymen  !  long  their  coupled  joys  maintain  ! 

The  Earth  is  deck'd  with  flowers,  the  Heavens  display'd, 
Muses  grant  gifts,  Nymphs  long  and  joined  life, 
Pan  store  of  babes,  virtue  their  thoughts  well  stay'd, 
Cupid's  lust  gone,  and  gone  is  bitter  strife. 
Happy  man  !  happy  wife  ! 
No  pride  shall  them  oppress, 
Nor  yet  shall  yield  to  loathsome  sluttishness ; 

And  jealousy  is  slain, 
For  Hymen  will  their  coupled  joys  maintain. 


26  SIDNEY 


WOOING    STUFF 

T^AINT   AMORIST  !   what,  dost  thou  think 
•*•    To  taste  Love's  honey,  and  not  drink 

One  dram  of  gall  ?  or  to  devour 

A  world  of  sweet,  and  taste  no  sour  ? 

Dost  thou  ever  think  to  enter 

Th'  Elysian  Fields,  that  darest  not  venture 

In  Charon's  barge  ?     A  lover's  mind 

Must  use  to  sail  with  every  wind. 

He  that  loves  and  fears  to  try 

Learns  his  Mistress  to  deny. 

Doth  she  chide  thee  ?  'tis  to  show  it 

That  thy  coldness  makes  her  do  it ; 

Is  she  silent?  is  she  mute? 

Silence  fully  grants  thy  suit ; 

Doth  she  pout  and  leave  the  room? 

Then  she  goes  to  bid  thee  come ; 

Is  she  sick?  why  then,  be  sure 

She  invites  thee  to  the  cure  ; 

Doth  she  cross  thy  suit  with  No  ? 

Tush  !  she  loves  to  hear  thee  woo ; 

Doth  she  call  the  faith  of  man 

In  question  ?  nay  !  she  loves  thee  than ; 

And  if  e'er  she  makes  a  blot, 

She  's  lost  if  that  thou  hitt'st  her  not. 

He  that  after  ten  denials 

Dares  attempt  no  farther  trials, 

Hath  no  warrant  to  acquire 

The  dainties  of  his  chaste  desire. 


SIDNEY  27 

RURAL  POESY 

O  WORDS,  which  fall  like  summer  dew  on  me  ! 
O  breath,  more  sweet  than  is  the  growing  bean  ! 
O  tongue,  in  which  all  honey'd  liquors  be  ! 
O  voice,  that  doth  the  thrush  in  shrillness  stain  ! 
Do  you  say  still  this  is  her  promise  due  : 
That  she  is  mine,  as  I  to  her  am  true  ! 

Gay  hair,  more  gay  than  straw  when  harvest  lies  ! 

Lips,  red  and  plump  as  cherries'  ruddy  side  ! 

Eyes,  fair  and  great,  like  fair  great  ox's  eyes  ! 

O  breast,  in  which  two  white  sheep  swell  in  pride  ! 
Join  you  with  me  to  seal  this  promise  due  : 
That  she  be  mine,  as  I  to  her  am  true  ! 

But  thou,  white  skin,  as  white  as  curds  well  press'd, 
So  smooth  as  sleek-stone  like  it  smoothes  each  part ! 
And  thou,  dear  flesh,  as  soft  as  wool  new  dress'd, 
And  yet  as  hard  as  brawn  made  hard  by  art ! 

First  four  but  say,  next  four  their  saying  seal ; 

But  you  must  pay  the  gage  of  promised  weal. 

AN  EPITAPH 

.  T_T  IS  BEING  was  in  her  alone  : 
-*-  -*-  And  he  not  being,  she  was  none. 
They  joy'd  one  joy,  one  grief  they  grieved ; 
One  love  they  loved,  one  life  they  lived. 
The  hand  was  one,  one  was  the  sword, 
That  did  his  death,  her  death  afford. 
As  all  the  rest,  so  now  the  stone 
That  tombs  the  two  is  justly  one. 


28  SIDNEY 


O  TELLA  !  the  fullness  of  my  thoughts  of  thee 
^— '  Can  not  be  stay'd  within  my  panting  breast ; 
But  they  do  swell  and  struggle  forth  of  me 
Till  that  in  words  thy  figure  be  express'd : 
And  yet,  as  soon  as  they  so  formed  be, 
According  to  my  lord  Love's  own  behest, 
With  sad  eyes  I  their  weak  proportion  see 
To  portrait  that  which  in  this  world  is  best. 
So  that  I  can  not  choose  but  write  my  mind, 
And  can  not  choose  but  put  out  what  I  write  : 
While  these  poor  babes  their  death  in  birth  do  find. 
And  now  my  pen  these  lines  had  dashed  quite, 
But  that  they  stopp'd  his  fury  from  the  same 
Because  their  fore-front  bare  sweet  Stella's  name. 


ALAS  !  have  I  not  pain  enough,  my  friend  ! 
Upon  whose  breast  a  fiercer  grip  doth  tire 
Than  did  on  him  who  first  stole  down  the  fire, 
While  Love  on  me  doth  all  his  quiver  spend, 
But  with  your  rhubarb  words  you  must  contend 
To  grieve  me  worse,  in  saying  that  Desire 
Doth  plunge  my  well-form'd  soul  even  in  the  mire 
Of  sinful  thoughts  which  do  in  ruin  end  ? 
If  that  be  sin  which  doth  the  manners  frame, 
Well-staid  with  truth  in  word  and  faith  of  deed, 
Ready  of  wit,  and  fearing  nought  but  shame,  — 
If  that  be  sin  which  in  fix'd  hearts  doth  breed 
A  loathing  of  all  loose  unchastity,  — 
Then  love  is  sin,  and  let  me  sinful  be  ! 


SIDNEY  29 


Y  MUSE  may  well  grudge  at  my  heavenly  joy 
If  still  I  force  her  in  sad  rhymes  to  creep  : 
She  oft  hath  drunk  my  tears  now  hopes  to  enjoy 
Nectar  of  mirth,  since  I  Jove's  cup  do  keep. 
Sonnets  be  not  bound  'prentice  to  annoy ; 
Trebles  sing  high,  so  well  as  bases  deep. 
Grief  but  Love's  winter  livery  is  :  the  boy 
Hath  cheeks  to  smile,  so  well  as  eyes  to  weep. 
Come  then,  my  Muse  !  show  thou  height  of  delight 
In  well-raised  notes ;  my  pen,  the  best  it  may, 
Shall  paint  out  joy  though  but  in  black  and  white. 
Cease,  eager  Muse  !  peace,  pen  !  for  my  sake  stay  ! 
I  give  you  here  my  hand  for  truth  of  this  : 
Wise  silence  is  best  music  unto  bliss. 


TWT  Y  TRUE  LOVE  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his, 
•*    -*-By  just  exchange  one  for  the  other  given  : 
I  hold  his  dear,  and  mine  he  can  not  miss ; 
There  never  was  a  bargain  better  driven. 
His  heart  in  me  keeps  me  and  him  in  one ; 
My  heart  in  him  his  thoughts  and  senses  guides  : 
He  loves  my  heart  for  once  it  was  his  own ; 
I  cherish  his  because  in  me  it  bides. 
His  heart  his  wound  received  from  my  sight ; 
My  heart  was  wounded  with  his  wounded  heart : 
For  as  from  me  on  him  his  hurt  did  light, 
So  still  methought  in  me  his  hurt  did  smart. 
Both  equal  hurt,  in  this  change  sought  our  bliss  : 
My  true  love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his. 


SIR   EDWARD   DYER 


THE  FRIEND'S  REMONSTRANCE 

TDROMETHEUS,  when  first  from  heaven  high 
•*•    He  brought  down  fire,  ere  then  on  earth  not  seen, 
Fond  of  delight,  a  Satyr,  standing  by, 
Gave  it  a  kiss,  as  it  like  sweet  had  been. 
Feeling  forthwith  the  other  burning  power, 
Wood  with  the  smart,  with  shouts  and  shrieking  shrill, 
He  sought  his  ease  in  river,  field,  and  bower ; ' 
But  for  the  time  his  grief  went  with  him  still. 
So  silly  I,  with  that  unwonted  sight, 
In  human  shape  an  angel  from  above, 
Feeding  mine  eyes,  the  impression  there  did  light ; 
That  since  I  run  and  rest  as  pleaseth  Love. 
The  difference  is  :  the  Satyr's  lips  —  my  heart, — 
He  for  a  while,  I  evermore  have  smart. 

HIS  ANSWER 

A    SATYR  once  did  run  away  for  dread 
*^  With  sound  of  horn  which  he  himself  did  blow  : 
Fearing  and  fear'd,  thus  from  himself  he  fled, 
Deeming  strange  ill  in  that  he  did  not  know. 
Such  causeless  fears  when  coward  minds  do  take, 
It  makes  them  fly  that  which  they  fain  would  have  : 
As  this  poor  beast,  who  did  his  rest  forsake, 
Thinking  not  why  but  how  himself  to  save. 


SIDNEY  3 1 

Even  thus  might  I,  for  doubts  which  I  conceive 
Of  mine  own  words,  my  own  good  hap  betray ; 
And  thus  might  I,  for  fear  of  may-be,  leave 
The  sweet  pursuit  of  my  desired  prey. 
Better  like  I  thy  Satyr,  dearest  Dyer  ! 
Who  burn'd  his  lips  to  kiss  fair  shining  fire. 

Philip  Sidney. 


THOMAS   WATSON 


H' 

1.  I1 


ON  SIDNEY'S  DEATH 

'  OW  LONG  with  vain  complaining, 
-With  dreary  tears  and  joys  refraining, 
Shall  we  renew  his  dying 
Whose  happy  soul  is  flying, 
Not  in  a  place  of  sadness, 
But  in  eternal  gladness  ? 

Sweet  Sidney  lives  in  heaven  :  then  let  our  weeping 
Be  turn'd  to  hymns  and  songs  of  pleasant  keeping  ! 

OF   TIME 

rT^IME  wasteth  years  and  months  and  days  and  hours 
•*•  Time  doth  consume  fame,  honour,  wit,  and  strength  : 
Time  kills  the  greenest  herbs  and  sweetest  flowers  : 
Time  wears  out  youth  and  beauty's  looks  at  length  : 
Time  doth  convey  to  ground  both  foe  and  friend, 
And  each  thing  else  but  Love,  which  hath  no  end. 


32  WATSON 

Time  maketh  every  tree  to  die  and  rot : 
Time  turneth  oft  our  pleasures  into  pain  : 
Time  causeth  wars  and  wrongs  to  be  forgot : 
Time  clears  the  sky  which  first  hung  full  of  rain  : 
Time  makes  an  end  of  all  humane  desire, 
But  only  this  which  sets  my  heart  on  fire. 

Time  turneth  into  nought  each  princely  state  : 
Time  brings  a  flood  from  new  resolved  snow  : 
Time  calms  the  sea  where  tempest  was  of  late  : 
Time  eats  whate'er  the  moon  can  see  below  : 
And  yet  no  time  prevails  in  my  behove, 
Nor  any  time  can  make  me  cease  to  love. 


HP  HIS  latter  night,  amidst  my  troubled  rest, 
•*•  A  dismal  dream  my  fearful  heart  appall'd, 
Whereof  the  sum  was  this  :  Love  made  a  feast, 
To  which  all  neighbour  Saints  and  Gods  were  call'd 
The  cheer  was  more  than  mortal  men  can  think, 
And  mirth  grew  on  by  taking  in  their  drink. 

Then  Jove  amidst  his  cups,  for  service  done, 

"Can  thus  to  jest  with  Ganymede,  his  boy  : 

I  fain  would  find  for  thee,  my  pretty  Son  ! 

A  fairer  wife  than  Paris  brought  to  Troy. 

Why,  Sir  !  quoth  he,  if  Phoebus  stand  my  friend, 

Who  knows  the  world,  this  gear  will  soon  have  end. 

Then  Jove  replied  that  Phoebus  should  not  choose 
But  do  his  best,  to  find  the  fairest  face  ; 
And  she  once  found  should  ne  will  nor  refuse, 
But  yield  herself  and  change  her  dwelling-place, 


WATSON  33 

Alas  !  how  much  was  then  my  heart  affright : 
Which  bade  me  wake  and  watch  my  Fair  Delight. 

THE  KISS 

IN  time  long  past,  when  in  Diana's  chase 
A  bramble  bush  prick'd  Venus  in  the  foot, 
Old  yEsculapius  help'd  her  heavy  case 
Before  the  hurt  had  taken  any  root : 
Wherehence,  although  his  beard  were  crisping  hard, 
She  yielded  him  a  kiss  for  his  reward. 
My  luck  was  like  to  his,  this  other  day, 
When  She  whom  I  on  earth  do  worship  most 
For  kissing  me  vouchsafed  thus  to  say  — 
"  Take  this  for  once,  and  make  thereof  no  boast ! " 
Forthwith  my  heart  gave  signs  of  joy  by  skips, 
As  though  our  souls  had  join'd  by  joining  lips. 
And  since  that  time  I  thought  it  not  amiss 
To  judge  which  were  the  best  of  all  these  three  : 
Her  breath,  her  speech,  or  that  her  dainty  kiss  : 
And  (sure)  of  all  the  kiss  best  liked  me. 
For  that  was  it  which  did  revive  my  heart, 
Oppress'd  and  almost  dead  with  daily  smart. 

PHILOMELA 

WHEN  May  is  in  his  prime  and  youthful  Spring 
Doth  clothe  the  tree  with  leaves  and  ground 

with  flowers, 

And  time  of  year  reviveth  every  thing, 
And  lovely  Nature  smiles,  and  nothing  lours, 
Then  Philomela  most  doth  strain  her  breast 
With  night  complaints,  and  sits  in  little  rest. 


34  WATSON 

This  bird's  estate  I  may  compare  with  mine, 
To  whom  fond  love  doth  work  such  wrongs  by  day 
That  in  the  night  my  heart  must  needs  repine, 
And  storm  with  sighs  to  ease  me  as  I  may : 
Whilst  others  are  becalm'd,  or  lie  them  still. 
Or  sail  secure  with  tide  and  wind  at  will. 

And  as  all  those  which  hear  this  bird  complain 
Conceive  on  all  her  tunes  a  sweet  delight, 
Without  remorse  or  pitying  her  pain, 
So  She  for  whom  I  wail  both  day  and  night 
Doth  sport  herself  in  hearing  my  complaint : 
A  just  reward  for  serving  such  a  Saint. 

MY  LOVE  IS  PAST 

T    OVE  hath  delight  in  sweet  delicious  fare  ; 
•*— J  Love  never  takes  good  Counsel  for  his  friend  ; 

Love  author  is  and  cause,  of  idle  care  ; 

Love  is  distraught  of  wit  and  hath  no  end ; 

Love  shooteth  shafts  of  burning  hot  desire ; 

Love  burneth  more  than  either  flame  or  fire. 

Love  doth  much  harm  through  jealousy's  assault ; 
Love  once  embraced  will  hardly  part  again ; 
Love  thinks  in  breach  of  faith  there  is  no  fault ; 
Love  makes  a  sport  of  others'  deadly  pain  ; 
Love  is  a  wanton  child,  and  loves  to  brawl ; 
Love  with  his  war  brings  many  souls  to  thrall. 

These  are  the  smallest  faults  that  lurk  in  Love ; 
These  are  the  hurts  which  I  have  cause  to  curse  ; 
These  are  those  truths  which  no  man  can  disprove ; 
These  are  such  harms  as  none  can  suffer  worse. 


WATSON  35 

All  this  I  write  that  others  may  beware, 

Though  now  myself  twice  free  from  all  such  care. 

THE    MAY-QUEEN 

WITH  fragrant  flowers  we  strew  the  May, 
And  make  this  our  chief  holy-day  : 
For  though  this  clime  were  blest  of  yore, 
Yet  was  it  never  proud  before. 

O  .beauteous  Queen  of  second  Troy  ! 
Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy  ! 

Now  th'  air  is  sweeter  than  sweet  balm, 
And  satyrs  dance  about  the  palm ; 
Now  earth,  with  verdure  newly  dight, 
Gives  perfecl  signs  of  her  delight. 

O  beauteous  Queen  of  second  Troy  ! 

Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy  ! 

Now  birds  record  new  harmony, 
And  trees  do  whistle  melody  ; 
Now  every  thing  that  Nature  breeds 
Doth  clad  itself  in  pleasant  weeds. 

O  beauteous  Queen  of  second  Troy  ! 

Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy  ! 

SONNET 

LAME  me  not,  dear  Love  !  though  I  talk  at  randon, 
-• — 'Terming  thee  scornful,  proud,  unkind,  disdainful, 
Since  all  I  do  can  not  my  woes  abandon, 
Or  rid  me  of  the  yoke  I  feel  so  painful. 
If  I  do  paint  thy  pride  or  want  of  pity, 
Consider  likewise  how  I  blaze  thy  beauty  : 


36  WATSON 

Inforced  to  the  first  in  mournful  ditty, 

Constrained  to  the  last  by  servile  duty. 

And  take  thou  no  offence  if  I  misdeemed  ! 

Thy  beauty's  glory  quencheth  thy  pride's  blemish : 

Better  it  is  of  all  to  be  esteemed 

Fair  and  too  proud  than  not  fair  and  too  squeamish. 

And  seeing  thou  must  scorn,  and  'tis  approved, 

Scorn  to  be  ruthless  since  thou  art  beloved  ! 


ANTHONY    MUNDAY 


DIRGE    FOR    ROSIN  HOOD 

WEEP,  weep,  ye  woodmen  !  wail ; 
Ydur  hands  with  sorrow  wring  ! 
Your  master,  Robin  Hood,  lies  dead  : 
Therefore  sigh  as  you  sing  ! 

Here  lie  his  primer  and  his  beads  — 
His  bent  bow  and  his  arrows  keen ; 
His  good  sword  and  his  holy  cross  : 
Now  cast  on  flowers  fresh  and  green  ! 

And,  as  they  fall,  shed  tears  and  say 
Well,  well-a-day  !  well,  well-a-day  ! 
Thus  cast  ye  flowers  fresh,  and  sing, 
And  on  to  Wakefield  take  your  way  ! 


GEORGE   PEELE 


CUPID'S   CURSE 

—  FAIR  and  fair  and  twice  so  fair, 

As  fair  as  any  may  be,  — 
The  fairest  shepherd  on  our  green, 

A  Love  for  any  Ladie  ! 
PARIS  —  Fair  and  fair  and  twice  so  fair, 

As  fair  as  any  may  be,  — 
Thy  Love  is  fair  for  thee  alone, 

And  for  no  other  Ladie. 
yENONE  —  My  Love  is  fair,  my  Love  is  gay, 
As  fresh  as  been  the  flowers  in  May  ; 
And  of  my  Love  my  roundelay, 
My  merry  merry  merry  roundelay, 

Concludes  with  Cupid's  Curse  — 
They  that  do  change  old  love  for  new, 

Pray  Gods,  they  change  for  worse  ! 
BOTH  —  They  that  do  change  - 


—  Fair  and  fair  and  twice  so  fair, 

As  fair  as  any  may  be,  — 
The  fairest  shepherd  on  our  green, 

A  Love  for  any  Ladie  ! 
PARIS  —  Fair  and  fair  and  twice  so  fair, 

As  fair  as  any  may  be,  — 
Thy  Love  is  fair  for  thee  alone, 

And  for  no  other  Ladie. 


38  PEELE 


—  My  Love  can  pipe,  my  Love  can  sing, 
My  Love  can  many  a  pretty  thing  ; 
And  of  his  lovely  praises  ring 
My  merry  merry  roundelays  : 

Amen  to  Cupid's  Curse  ! 
They  that  do  change  old  love  for  new, 
Pray  Gods,  they  change  for  worse  ! 
PARIS  —  They  that  do  change  old  love  for  new, 
Pray  Gods,  they  change  for  worse  ! 
BOTH  —  Fair  and  fair  - 


COLIN'S  SONG 

O  GENTLE  LOVE  !  ungentle  for  thy  deed, 
Thou  makest  my  heart 
A  bloody  mark, 
With  piercing  shot  to  bleed  : 
Shoot  soft,  sweet  Love  !  for  fear  thou  shoot  amiss, 
For  fear  too  keen 
Thy  arrows  been 
And  hit  the  heart  where  my  Beloved  is  ! 

Too  fair  that  fortune  were,  nor  never  I 

Shall  be  so  blest 

Among  the  rest, 

That  Love  shall  seize  on  her  by  sympathy  : 
Then  since  with  Love  my  prayers  bear  no  boot, 

This  doth  remain 

To  cease  my  pain  : 
I  take  the  wound  and  die  at  Venus'  foot. 


ROBERT   GREENE 


DOR  ON   AND    CABMELA 

AN  ECLOGUE 
DORON 

O  IT  DOWN,  CARMELA  !  here  are  cobs  for  kings, 
* — 'Sloes  black  as  jet,  or  like  my  Christmas  shoes  ; 
Sweet  cider,  which  my  leathern  bottle  brings  : 
Sit  down,  Carmela  !  let  me  kiss  thy  toes  ! 

CARMELA 

Ah,  Doron  !  ah,  my  heart !  thou  art  as  white 
As  is  my  mother's  calf  or  blinded  cow  ; 
Thine  eyes  are  like  the  slow-worm's  in  the  night ; 
Thine  hairs  resemble  thickest  of  the  snow. 

The  lines  within  thy  face  are  deep  and  clear, 
Like  to  the  furrows  of  my  father's  wain ; 
The  sweat  upon  thy  face  doth  oft  appear, 
Like  to  my  mother's  fat  and  kitchen  gain. 

Ah,  leave  my  toes,  and  kiss  my  lips,  my  Love  ! 
My  lips  are  thine,  for  I  have  given  them  thee. 
Within  thy  cap  'tis  thou  shalt  wear  my  glove  ; 
At  foot-ball  sport  thou  shalt  my  champion  be. 


4O  GREENE 

DORON 

Carmela  dear  !  even  as  the  golden  ball 
That  Venus  got,  such  are  thy  goodly  eyes ; 
When  cherries'  juice  is  jumbled  therewithal, 
Thy  breath  is  like  the  steam  of  apple  pies. 

Thy  lips  resemble  two  cucumbers  fair ; 
Thy  teeth  like  to  the  tusks  of  fattest  swine ; 
Thy  speech  is  like  the  thunder  in  the  air : 
Would  God  thy  toes,  thy  lips,  and  all  were  mine  ! 

CARMELA 

Doron  !  what  thing  doth  move  this  wishing  grief? 
DORON 

'Tis  Love,  Carmela  !  ah,  'tis  cruel  Love 
That,  like  a  slave  and  caitiff  villain  thief, 
Hath  cut  my  throat  of  joy  for  thy  behove. 

CARMELA 

Where  was  he  born? 

DORON 

I'  faith  I  know  not  where  : 
But  I  have  heard  much  talking  of  his  dart. 
Ay  me,  poor  man  !  with  many  a  trampling  tear, 
I  feel  him  wound  the  fore-horse  of  my  heart. 

What,  do  I  love  ?    O  no,  I  do  but  talk ; 
What,  shall  I  die  for  love  ?    O  no,  not  so ; 
What,  am  I  dead  ?     O  no,  my  tongue  doth  walk  : 
Come  kiss,  Carmela  !  and  confound  my  woe  ! 


GREENE  4 I 

CARMELA 

Even  with  this  kiss,  as  once  my  father  did, 
I  seal  the  sweet  indentures  of  delight : 
Before  I  break  my  vow  the  Gods  forbid  ! 
No,  not  by  day,  nor  yet  by  darksome  night. 

DORON 

Even  with  this  garland  made  of  hollyhocks 
I  cross  thy  brows  from  every  shepherd's  kiss. 
Heigh-ho,  how  glad  am  I  to  touch  thy  locks  ! 
My  frolic  heart  even  now  a  freeman  is. 

CARMELA 

I  thank  you,  Doron  !  and  will  think  on  you  ; 
I  love  you,  Doron  !  and  will  wink  on  you  ; 
I  seal  your  charter-patent  with  my  thumbs. 
Come  kiss,  and  part !  for  fear  my  mother  comes. 

INFIDAS    SONG 

WEET  ADON  !   darest  not  glance  thine  eye  — 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami  !  — 
Upon  thy  Venus  that  must  die  ? 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 

See  how  sad  thy  Venus  lies, — 

N'oserez-vous  ?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

Love  in  heart  and  tears  in  eyes  : 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 


42  GREENE 

Thy  face  is  fair  as  Paphos'  brooks  — 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

Wherein  Fancy  baits  her  hooks  : 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 

Thy  cheeks  like  cherries  that  do  grow  — 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

Amongst  the  western  mounts  of  snow  : 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 

Thy  lips  vermilion  full  of  love, — 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 
Thy  neck  as  silver-white  as  dove  : 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 
N'oserez-vous  ?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 

Thine  eyes  like  flames  of  holy  fires  — 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

Bum  all  my  thoughts  with  sweet  desires  : 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  % 

All  thy  beauties  sting  my  heart ;  — 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami  !  — 

I  must  die  through  Cupid's  dart : 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 


GREENE  43 

Wilt  thou  let  thy  Venus  die  ?  — 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

Adon  were  unkind,  say  I  — 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

To  let  fair  Venus  die  for  woe  — 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami !  — 

That  doth  love  sweet  Adon  so. 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me  ! 

N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel !  mon  bel ! 
N'oserez-vous?  mon  bel  ami ! 

MENAPHON'S  ROUNDELAY 

WHEN  tender  ewes,  brought  home  with  evening  sun, 
Wend  to  their  folds, 

And  to  their  holds 
The  shepherds  trudge  when  light  of  day  is  done, 

Upon  a  tree 
The  Eagle,  Jove's  fair  bird,  did  perch ; 

There  resteth  he  : 

A  little  Fly  his  harbour  then  did  search, 
And  did  presume,  though  others  laugh'd  thereat, 
To  perch  whereas  the  princely  Eagle  sat. 

The  Eagle  frown'd,  and  shook  his  royal  wings, 

And  charged  the  Fly 

From  thence  to  hie  : 
Afraid,  in  haste  the  little  creature  flings ; 

Yet  seeks  again, 


44  GREENE 

Fearful,  to  perk  him  by  the  Eagle's  side  : 

With  moody  vein 

The  speedy  post  of  Ganymede  replied  — 
Vassal !  avaunt !  or  with  my  wings  you  die  ; 
Is 't  fit  an  Eagle  seat  him  with  a  Fly  ? 

The  Fly  craved  pity  ;  still  the  Eagle  frown'd  : 

The  silly  Fly, 

Ready  to  die, 
Disgraced,  displaced,  fell  groveling  to  the  ground  : 

The  Eagle  saw, 
And  with  a  royal  mind  said  to  the  Fly  — 

Be  not  in  awe  ! 

I  scorn  by  me  the  meanest  creature  die  : 
Then  seat  thee  here  !     The  joyful  Fly  up  flings, 
And  sate  safe,  shadow'd  with  the  Eagle's  wings. 

SWEET   CONTENT 

OWEET  are  the  thoughts  that  savour  of  content; 
v"— ^  The  quiet  mind  is  richer  than  a  crown ; 

Sweet  are  the  nights  in  careless  slumber  spent ; 

The  poor  estate  scorns  Fortune's  angry  frown : 
Such  sweet  content,  such  minds,  such  sleep,  such  bliss, 

Beggars  enjoy,  when  princes  oft  do  miss. 

The  homely  house  that  harbours  quiet  rest, 
The  cottage  that  affords  no  pride  nor  care, 
The  mean  agrees  with  country  music  best, 
The  sweet  consort  of  mirth  and  modest  fare, — 
Obscured  life  sets  down  as  type  of  bliss  : 
A  mind  content  both  crown  and  kingdom  is. 


GREENE  45 


MENAPHON'S  SONG 

OOME  say  — Love, 
^-^  Foolish  Love, 
Doth  rule  and  govern  all  the  Gods  : 
I  say  —  Love, 
Inconstant  Love, 
Sets  men's  senses  far  at  odds. 
s  Some  swear  —  Love, 
Smooth-faced  Love, 
Is  sweetest  sweet  that  man  can  have  : 
I  say  —  Love, 
Sour  Love, 

Makes  Virtue  yield  as  Beauty's  slave  : 
A  bitter  sweet ;  a  folly  worst  of  all, 
That  forceth  Wisdom  to  be  Folly's  thrall. 

Love  is  sweet : 

Wherein  sweet? 
In  fading  pleasures  that  do  pain? 

Beauty  sweet : 

Is  that  sweet 
That  yieldeth  sorrow  for  a  gain? 

If  Love  's  sweet, 

Herein  sweet  — 
That  minutes'  joys  are  monthly  woes  : 

'Tis  not  sweet 

That  is  sweet 

Nowhere  but  where  repentance  grows. 
Then  love  who  list !  if  beauty  be  so  sour, 
Labour  for  me  !  love  rest  in  prince's  bower  ! 


MICHAEL   DRAYTON 


WHAT  LOVE  IS 

WHAT  IS  LOVE  but  the  desire 
Of  that  thing  the  fancy  pleaseth  ? 
A  holy  and  resistless  fire 

Weak  and  strong  alike  that  seizeth  : 
Which  not  Heaven  hath  power  to  let, 

Nor  wise  Nature  can  not  smother ; 
Whereby  Phoebus  doth  beget 

On  the  Universal  Mother  : 
That  the  everlasting  chain 

Which  together  all  things  tied, 
And  unmoved  doth  them  retain, 

And  by  which  they  shall  abide  : 
That  consent  we  clearly  find 

Which  doth  things  together  draw 
And  so,  strong  in  every  kind, 

Subjects  them  to  Nature's  law  : 
Whose  high  virtue  Number  teaches, 

In  which  every  thing  doth  move, 
From  the  lowest  depth  that  reaches 

To  the  height  of  heaven  above  : 
Harmony  that,  wisely  found 

When  the  cunning  hand  doth  strike, 
Whereas  every  amorous  sound 

Sweetly  marries  with  the  like. 


DRAYTON  47 


The  tender  cattle  scarcely  take 

From  their  dams,  the  fields  to  prove, 
But  each  seeketh  out  a  make  : 

Nothing  lives  that  doth  not  love. 
Not  so  much  as  but  the  plant  — 

As  Nature  every  thing  doth  pair  — 
By  it  if  the  male  do  want, 

Doth  dislike  and  will  not  bear. 
Nothing,  then,  is  like  to  Love, 

In  the  which  all  creatures  be  : 
From  it  ne'er  let  me  remove  ! 

Nor  let  it  remove  from  me  ! 

ROWLAND'S  ROUNDELAY 

—  To  whom  Her  Swain,  unworthy  though  he  were, 

Thus  unto  Her  his  Roundelay  applies  : 
To  whom  the  rest  the  under-part  'did  bear, 
Casting  upon  Her  their  still  longing  eyes. 

ROWLAND  —  Of  her  pure  eyes,  that  now  is  seen, 

CHORUS  —  Come,  let  us  sing,  ye  faithful  swains  ! 
ROWLAND  —  O  She  alone  the  Shepherds'  Queen, 
CHORUS  —  Her  flock  that  leads  : 

The  Goddess  of  these  meads, 
These  mountains,  and  these  plains. 

ROWLAND  —  Those  eyes  of  hers  that  are  more  clear 
CHORUS  —  Than  can  poor  shepherd's  song  express. 
ROWLAND  —  Than  be  his  beams  that  rules  the  year  : 
CHORUS  —  Fie  on  that  praise 

In  striving  things  to  raise 
That  doth  but  make  them  less  ! 


48  DRAYTON 


ROWLAND  —  That  do  the  flowery  Spring  prolong, 

CHORUS  —  So  all  things  in  her  sight  do  joy, 
ROWLAND  —  And  keep  the  plenteous  Summer  young, 
CHORUS  —  And  do  assuage 

The  wrathful  Winter's  rage- 
That  would  our  flocks  annoy. 

ROWLAND  —  Jove  saw  her  breast  that  naked  lay, 

CHORUS  —  A  sight  most  fit  for  Jove  to  see, 
ROWLAND  —  And  swore  it  was  the  Milky  Way  : 
CHORUS  —  Of  all  most  pure 

The  path,  we  us  assure, 
To  his  bright  court  to  be. 

ROWLAND  —  He  saw  her  tresses  hanging  down, 

CHORUS  —  That  moved  with  the  gentle  air, 
ROWLAND  —  And  said  that  Ariadne's  Crown 
CHORUS — With  those  compared 

The  Gods  should  not  regard, 
Nor  Berenice's  Hair. 

ROWLAND  —  When  She  hath  watch'd  my  flocks  by  night, 

CHORUS  —  O  happy  flocks  that  She  did  keep  ! 
ROWLAND  —  They  never  needed  Cynthia's  light, 
CHORUS  —  That  soon  gave  place, 
Amazed  with  her  grace 
That  did  attend  thy  sheep. 

ROWLAND  —  Above,  where  heaven's  high  glories  are, 

CHORUS  —  When  She  is  placed  in  the  skies, 
ROWLAND  —  She  shall  be  call'cl  the  Shepherds'  Star : 
CHORUS  —  And  evermore 

We  shepherds  will  adore 
Her  setting  and  her  rise. 


DRAYTON  49 


SONG    OF  MOTTO  AND  PERKIN 

MOTTO  —  Tell  me,  thou  skilful  shepherd  swain  ! 

Who  's  yonder  in  the  valley  set  ? 
PERKIN  —  O,  it  is  She  whose  sweets  do  stain 

The  lily,  rose,  the  violet. 

MOTTO  —  Why  doth  the  Sun,  against  his  kind, 
Stay  his  bright  chariot  in  the  skies  ? 

PERKIN  —  He  pauseth,  almost  stricken  blind 
With  gazing  on  her  heavenly  eyes. 

MOTTO  —  Why  do  thy  flocks  forbear  their  food, 

Which  sometime  was  their  chief  delight  ? 

PERKIN  —  Because  they  need  no  other  good 
That  live  in  presence  of  her  sight. 

MOTTO  —  How  come  these  flowers  to  flourish  still, 
Not  withering  with  sharp  Winter's  death  ? 

PERKIN  —  She  hath  robb'd  Nature  of  her  skill, 

And  comforts  all  things  with  her  breath. 

MOTTO  —  Why  slide  these  brooks  so  slow  away, 
As  swift  as  the  wild  roe  that  were  ? 

PERKIN  —  O  muse  not,  shepherd  !  that  they  stay, 
When  they  her  heavenly  voice  do  hear. 

MOTTO  —  From  whence  come  all  these  goodly  swains 
And  lovely  girls  attired  in  green? 

PERKIN  —  From  gathering  garlands  on  the  plains, 

To  crown  thy  Syl :  our  shepherds'  Queen. 


5<D  DRAYTON 


The  sun  that  lights  this  world  below, 
Flocks,  brooks,  and  flowers,  can  witness  bear, 
These  shepherds  and  these  nymphs  do  know, 
Thy  Sylvia  is  as  chaste  as  fair. 


I 


TO  HIS   COY  LOVE 

PRAY  THEE  leave,  love  me  no  more, 

Call  home  the  heart  you  gave  me  : 
I  but  in  vain  that  Saint  adore 

That  can,  but  will  not  save  me. 
These  poor  half-kisses  kill  me  quite  ; 

Was  ever  man  thus  served, 
Amidst  an  ocean  of  delight 

For  pleasure  to  be  sterved  ? 

Show  me  no  more  those  snowy  breasts, 

With  azure  riverets  branched, 
Where,  whilst  mine  eye  with  plenty  feasts, 

Yet  is  my  thirst  not  staunched. 
O  Tantalus  !  thy  pains  ne'er  tell, — 

By  me  thou  art  prevented  : 
Tis  nothing  to  be  plagued  in  hell, 

But  thus  in  heaven  tormented  ! 

Clip  me  no  more  in  those  dear  arms, 

Nor  thy  life's  comfort  call  me  ! 
O  these  are  but  too  powerful  charms, 

And  do  but  more  enthrall  me. 
But  see  how  patient  I  am  grown 

In  all  this  coil  about  thee  ! 
Come,  Nice  Thing  !  let  thy  heart  alone, 

I  can  not  live  without  thee. 


JOHN    DAVIES 

OF    HEREFORD 


THE  PICTURE   OF  AN  HAPPY  MAN 


H 


OW  BLESS'D  is  he,  though  ever  cross'd, 
That  can  all  crosses  blessings  make  ; 
That  finds  himself  ere  he  be  lost, 

And  lose  that  found,  for  virtue's  sake. 


Yea,  bless'd  is  he  in  life  and  death, 

That  fears  not  death,  nor  loves  this  life  ; 

That  sets  his  will  his  wit  beneath ; 
And  hath  continual  peace  in  strife. 

That  striveth  but  with  frail  Desire, 

Desiring  nothing  that  is  ill ; 
That  rules  his  soul  by  Reason's  squire, 

And  works  by  Wisdom's  compass  still. 

That  nought  observes  but  what  preserves 
His  mind  and  body  from  offence  ; 

That  neither  courts  nor  seasons  serves, 
And  learns  without  experience. 

That  hath  a  name  as  free  from  blot 
As  Virtue's  brow,  or  as  his  life 

Is  from  the  least  suspect  or  spot, 
Although  he  lives  without  a  wife. 


5  2  DAVIES 

That  doth,  in  spite  of  all  debate, 

Possess  his  soul  in  patience  ; 
And  pray,  in  love,  for  all  that  hate ; 

And  hate  but  what  doth  give  offence. 

Whose  soul  is  like  a  sea  too  still, 

That  rests,  though  moved  :  yea,  moved  (at  least) 
With  love  and  hate  of  good  and  ill, 

To  waft  the  mind  the  more  to  rest. 

That  singly  doth  and  doubles  not, 
But  is  the  same  he  seems ;  and  is 

Still  simply  so,  and  yet  no  sot, 
But  yet  not  knowing  ought  amiss. 

That  never  sin  concealed  keeps, 

But  shows  the  same  to  God,  or  moe ; 

Then  ever  for  it  sighs  and  weeps, 
And  joys  in  soul  for  grieving  so. 

That  by  himself  doth  others  mete, 
And  of  himself  still  meekly  deems  ; 

That  never  sate  in  scorner's  seat ; 
But  as  himself  the  worst  esteems. 

That  loves  his  body  for  his  soul, 

Soul  for  his  mind,  his  mind  for  God, 

God  for  Himself;  and  doth  controul 
CONTENT,  if  it  with  Him  be  odd. 

That  to  his  soul  his  sense  subdues, 

His  soul  to  reason,  and  reason  to  faith  ; 

That  vice  in  virtue's  shape  eschews, 
And  both  by  wisdom  rightly  weigh'th. 


DAVIES  53 

That  rests  in  action,  acting  nought 
But  what  is  good  in  deed  and  show ; 

That  seeks  but  God  within  his  thought, 
And  thinks  but  God  to  love  and  know. 

That,  all  unseen,  sees  all  (like  Him), 
And  makes  good  use  of  what  he  sees ; 

That  notes  the  tracks  and  tricks  of  Time, 
And  flees  with  the  one,  the  other  flees. 

That  lives  too  low  for  envy's  looks, 

And  yet  too  high  for  loath'd  contempt ; 

That  makes  his  friends  good  men  and  books, 
And  nought  without  them  doth  attempt. 

That  lives  as  dying,  living  yet 

In  death,  for  life  he  hath  in  hope  ; 
As  far  from  state  as  sin  and  debt, 

Of  happy  life  the  means  and  scope. 

That  fears  no  frowns,  nor  cares  for  fawns 

Of  Fortune's  favourites,  or  foes  ; 
That  neither  checks  with  kings  nor  pawns, 

And  yet  still  wins  what  checkers  lose. 

That  ever  lives  a  light  to  all, 

Though  oft  obscured,  like  the  sun  ; 
And  though  his  fortunes  be  but  small, 

Yet  Fortune  doth  not  seek,  nor  shun. 

That  never  looks  but  grace  to  find, 

Nor  seeks  for  knowledge  to  be  known  ; 

That  makes  a  kingdom  of  his  mind, 
Wherein,  with  God,  he  reigns  alone. 


54  DAVIES 

This  man  is  great  with  little  state, 

Lord  of  the  world  epitomized  : 
Who  with  staid  front  out-faceth  Fate  ; 

And,  being  empty,  is  sufficed, — 
Or  is  sufficed  with  little,  since  (at  least) 
He  makes  his  conscience  a  continual  feast. 

IN  PRAISE   OF  MUSIC 

'  I  ^HE  motion  which  the  nine-fold  sacred  quire 
•*•   Of  angels  make  :  the  bliss  of  all  the  bless'd, 

Which  (next  the  Highest)  most  fills  the  highest  desire 
And  moves  but  souls  that  move  in  Pleasure's  rest : 
The  heavenly  charm  that  lullabies  our  woes, 
And  recollects  the  mind  that  cares  distract, 
The  lively  death  of  joyless  thoughts  o'erthrows, 
And  brings  rare  joys  but  thought  on  into  a.& : 
Which  like  the  Soul  of  all  the  world  doth  move, 
The  universal  nature  of  this  All : 
The  life  of  life,  and  soul  of  joy  and  love, 
High  rapture's  heaven  :  the  That  I  can  not  call 
(Like  God)  by  real  name  :  and  what  is  this 
But  Music,  next  the  Highest,  the  highest  bliss  ? 

THE  SHOOTING   STAR 

SO  shoots  a  Star  as  doth  my  Mistress  glide 
At  midnight  through  my  chamber,  which  she  makes 
Bright  as  the  sky  when  moon  and  stars  are  spied, 
Wherewith  my  sleeping  eyes  amazed  wake  : 
Which  ope  no  sooner  than  herself  she  shuts 
Out  of  my  sight,  away  so  fast  she  flies  : 


DAVIES  55 

Which  me  in  mind  of  my  slack  service  puts ; 
For  which  all  night  I  wake,  to  plague  mine  eyes. 
Shoot,  Star  !  once  more,  and  if  I  be  thy  mark 
Thou  shalt  hit  me,  for  thee  I  '11  meet  withal. 
Let  mine  eyes  once  more  see  thee  in  the  dark  ! 
Else  they  with  ceaseless  waking  out  will  fall : 
And  if  again  such  time  and  place  I  lose 
To  close  with  thee,  let  mine  eyes  never  close. 


W 


I 


LOVE'S  BLAZONRY 

HEN  I  essay  to  blaze  my  lovely  Love 
And  to  express  her  all  in  colours  quaint, 
I  rob  earth,  sea,  air,  fire,  and  all  above, 
Of  their  best  parts,  but  her  worst  parts  to  paint : 
Staidness  from  earth,  from  sea  the  clearest  part, 
From  air  her  subtlety,  from  fire  her  light ; 
From  sun,  moon,  stars,  the  glory  they  impart : 
So  rob  and  wrong  I  all,  to  do  her  right. 
But  if  the  beauty  of  her  mind  I  touch, 
Since  that  before  touch'd  touch  but  parts  externe, 
I  ransack  heaven  a  thousand  times  as  much : 
Since  in  that  mind  we  may  that  Mind  discern, 
That  all  in  All  that  are  or  fair  or  good. 
And  so  She  's  most  divine,  in  flesh  and  blood. 

AN  HELLESPONT   OF  CREAM 

F  there  were,  O  !  an  Hellespont  of  cream 
Between  us,  milk-white  Mistress  !  I  would  swim 
To  you,  to  show  to  both  my  love's  extreme, 


56  DAVIES 

Leander-like, —  yea  !  dive  from  brim  to  brim. 
But  met  I  with  a  butter'd  pippin-pie 
Floating  upon  't,  that  would  I  make  my  boat 
To  waft  me  to  you  without  jeopardy  : 
Though  sea-sick  I  might  be  while  it  did  float. 
Yet  if  a  storm  should  rise,  by  night  or  day, 
Of  sugar-snows  or  hail  of  care-aways, 
Then,  if  I  found  a  pancake  in  my  way, 
It  like  a  plank  should  bear  me  to  your  quays. 
Which  having  found,  if  they  tobacco  kept, 
The  smoke  should  dry  me  well  before  I  slept. 


THOMAS   NASH 


FAIR   SUMMER 

L^AIR  Summer  droops,  droop  men  and  beasts  therefore  ! 
-*•     So  fair  a  Summer  never  look  for  more  ! 

All  good  things  vanish  less  than  in  a  day  : 

Peace,  plenty,  pleasure,  suddenly  decay. 

Go  not  yet  hence,  bright  soul  of  the  sad  year  ! 

The  earth  is  hell  when  tho:!  leavest  to  appear. 

What  !  shall  those  flowers  that  deck'd  thy  garland  erst 
Upon  thy  grave  be  wastefully  dispersed  ? 
()  trees  !  consume  your  sap  in  sorrow's  source ; 
Streams  !  turn  to  tears  your  tributary  course. 
Go  not  yet  hence,  bright  soul  of  the  sad  year  ! 
The  earth  is  hell  when  thou  leavest  to  appear. 


SIMPLES 

BUY,  you  lusty  gallants  ! 
^-^  These  simples  which  I  sell ! 
In  all  your  days  were  never  seen  like  these, 

For  beauty,  strength,  and  smell. 
Here  's  the  king-cup,  the  pansy  with  the  violet, 

The  rose  that  loves  the  shower, 

The  wholesome  gilliflower, 

Both  the  cowslip,  lily, 

And  the  daffodilly, 

With  a  thousand  in  my  power. 


Here  's  golden  amaranthus 

That  true  love  can  provoke, 
Of  horehound  store,  and  poisoning  hellebore, 

With  the  polipode  of  the  oak ; 
Here  's  chaste  vervain,  and  lustful  eringo, 

Health-preserving  sage, 

And  rue  which  cures  old  age  ; 

With  a  world  of  others, 

Making  fruitful  mothers  : 

All  these  attend  me  as  my  page. 


JOHN    DONNE 


THE  FUNERAL 

"\  A  WHOEVER  comes  to  shroud  me,  do  not  harm 
»    V  Nor  question  much 

That  subtle  wreath  of  hair  about  mine  arm  ! 
The  mystery,  the  sign  you  must  not  touch  : 

For  'tis  my  outward  soul, 
Viceroy  to  that  which,  then  to  heaven  being  gone, 

Will  leave  this  to  controul 
And  keep  these 'limbs,  her  provinces,  from  dissolution. 

For  if  the  sinewy  thread  my  brain  lets  fall 

Through  every  part 

Can  tie  those  parts  and  make  me  one  of  all, 
Those  hairs,  which  upward  grew  and  strength  and  art 

Have  from  a  better  brain, 
Can  better  do  't :  except  she  mean'd  that  I 

By  this  should  know  my  pain, 
As  prisoners  then  are  manacled,  when  they  "re 

condemn'd  to  die. 

Whate'er  she  mean'd  by  't,  bury  it  with  me  ! 

For  since  I  am 

Love's  Martyr,  it  might  breed  idolatry 
If  into  other  hands  these  relics  came. 

As  'twas  humility 
T'  afford  to  it  all  that  a  soul  can  do, 

So  'tis  some  bravery 
That,  since  you  would  have  none  of  me,  I  bury 

.  some  of  you. 


DONNE  59 


THE    UNDERTAKING 

T   HAVE  DONE  one  braver  thing 
*   Than  all  the  Worthies  did  ; 
And  yet  a  braver  thence  doth  spring, 
Which  is,  to  keep  that  hid. 

It  were  but  madness  now  to  impart 

The  skill  of  specular  stone, 
When  he,  which  can  have  learn'd  the  art 

To  cut  it,  can  find  none. 

So,  if  I  now  should  utter  this, 

Others,  because  no  more 
Such  stuff  to  work  upon  there  is, 

Would  love  but  as  before. 

But  he,  who  loveliness  within 
Hath  found,  all  outward  loathes  : 

For  he,  who  colour  loves  and  skin, 
Loves  but  their  oldest  clothes. 

If,  as  I  have,  you  also  do 

Virtue  in  woman  see, 
And  dare  love  that,  and  say  so  too, 

And  forget  the  HE  and  SHE, — 

And  if  this  love,  though  placed  so, 
From  profane  men  you  hide, 

Which  will  no  faith  on  this  bestow 
Or,  if  they  do,  deride, — 


6O  DONNE 

Then  you  have  done  a  braver  thing 

Than  all  the  Worthies  did  ; 
And  a  braver  thence  will  spring, 

Which  is,  to  keep  that  hid. 

BREAK  OF  DAY 

O  TAY,  O  SWEET  !  and  do  not  rise  ! 

^-'  The  light  that  shines  comes  from  thine  eyes  : 
The  day  breaks  not ;  it  is  my  heart, 
Because  that  you  and  I  must  part. 

Stay  !  or  else  my  joys  will  die, 

And  perish  in  their  infancy. 

'Tis  true,  'tis  day  :  what  though  it  be  ? 

O  wilt  thou  therefore  rise  from  me  ? 

Why  should  we  rise  because  'tis  light? 

Did  we  lie  down  because  'twas  night  ? 
Love,  which  in  spite  of  darkness  brought  us  hither, 
Should  in  despite  of  light  keep  us  together. 

Light  hath  no  tongue,  but  is  all  eye  : 
If  it  could  speak  as  well  as  spy, 
This  were  the  worst  that  it  could  say, 
That  being  well  I  fain  would  stay, 
And  that  I  loved  my  heart  and  honour  so 
That  I  would  not  from  him  that  had  them  go. 

Must  business  thee  from  hence  remove  ? 

Oh,  that 's  the  worst  disease  of  love. 

The  poor,  the  false,  the  foul,  love  can 

Admit,  but  not  the  busied  man. 
He  which  hath  business,  and  makes  love,  doth  do 
Such  wrong  as  when  a  married  man  should  woo. 


BEN   JONSON 


UP  !  youths  .and  virgins  !  up,  and  praise 
The  God  whose  nights  outshine  his  days  ! 

Hymen,  whose  hallow'd  rites 
Could  never  boast  of  brighter  lights, 

Whose  bonds  pass  liberty. 

Two  of  your  troop,  that  with  the  morn  were  free, 
Are  now  waged  to  his  war ; 

And  what  they  are, 
If  you  '11  perfection  see, 

Yourselves  must  be. 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 

What  joy  or  honours  can  compare 
With  holy  nuptials,  when  they  are 

Made  out  of  equal  parts 
Of  years,  of  states,  of  hands,  of  hearts  ; 

When  in  the  happy  choice 

The  spouse  and  spoused  have  the  foremost  voice  ? 
Such,  glad  of  Hymen's  war, 

Live  what  they  are 
And  long  perfection  see  : 

And  such  ours  be. 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 


62  JONSON 

The  solemn  state  of  this  one  night 
Were  fit  to  last  an  age's  light ; 

But  there  are  rites  behind 
Have  less  of  state  and  more  of  kind  : 

Love's  wealthy  crop  of  kisses, 
And  fruitful  harvest  of  his  mother's  blisses. 
Sound  then  to  Hymen's  war  ! 

That  what  these  are, 
Who  will  perfection  see 

May  haste  to  be. 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 

Love's  Commonwealth  consists  of  toys ; 
His  Council  are  those  antic  boys, 

Games,  Laughter,  Sports,  Delights, 
That  triumph  with  him  on  these  nights  : 

To  whom  we  must  give  way, 
For  now  their  reign  begins,  and  lasts  till  day. 
They  sweeten  Hymen's  war, 

And  in  that  jar 
Make  all,  that  married  be, 

Perfection  see. 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 

Why  stays  the  bridegroom  to  invade 
Her  that  would  be  a  matron  made  ? 

Good-night !  whilst  yet  we  may 
Good-night  to  you  a  virgin  say. 

To-morrow  rise  the  same 
Your  mother  is,  and  use  a  nobler  name  ! 
Speed  well  in  Hymen's  war, 
That  what  you  are, 


JONSON  63 

By  your  perfection,  we 

And  all  may  see  ! 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 

To-night  is  Venus'  vigil  kept, 

This  night  no  bridegroom  ever  slept ; 

And  if  the  fair  bride  do, 
The  married  say  'tis  his  fault  too. 

Wake  then,  and  let  your  lights 
Wake  too,  for  they  '11  tell  nothing  of  your  nights, 
But  that  in  Hymen's  war 

You  perfect  are ; 
And  such  perfection  we 

Do  pray  should  be. 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 

That,  ere  the  rosy-finger'd  Morn 
Behold  nine  moons,  there  may  be  born 

A  babe  to  uphold  the  fame 
Of  Ratcliffe's  blood  and  Ramsay's  name  ; 

That  may,  in  his  great  seed, 
Wear  the  long  honours  of  his  father's  deed. 
Such  fruits  of  Hymen's  war 

Most  perfect  are  : 
And  all  perfection  we 

Wish  you  .should  see. 
Shine,  Hesperus  !  shine  forth,  thou  wished  star  ! 


64  JONSON 


TF   I    FREELY   MAY   DISCOVER 
•*•  What  would  please  me  in  my  lover  : 
I  would  have  her  fair  and  witty, 
Savouring  more  of  Court  than  City  ; 
A  little  proud,  but  full  of  pity  ; 
Light  and  humorous  in  her  toying, 
Oft  building  hopes,  and  soon  destroying, 
Long  but  sweet  in  the  enjoying  : 
Neither  too  easy  nor  too  hard, 
All  extremes  I  would  have  barr'd. 

She  should  be  allow'd  her  passions, 
So  they  were  but  used  as  fashions  : 
Sometimes  froward,  and  then  frowning ; 
Sometimes  sickish,  and  then  swouning ; 
Every  fit  with  change  still  crowning  : 
Purely  jealous  I  would  have  her, 
Then  only  constant  when  I  crave  her : 
'Tis  a  virtue  should  not  save  her. 
Thus,  nor  her  delicates  would  cloy  me, 
Nor  her  peevishness  annoy  me. 

HER   MAN 

OF  your  trouble,  BEN  !  to  ease  me, 
I  will  tell  what  man  would  please  me. 

I  would  have  him,  if  I  could, 
Noble,  or  of  greater  blood, — 
Titles,  I  confess,  do  take  me, 
And  a  woman  God  did  make  me  ; 
French  to  boot,  at  least  in  fashion, 


JONSON  65 

And  his  manners  of  that  nation. 
Young  I  'd  have  him  too,  and  fair, 
Yet  a  man  ;  with  crisped  hair, 
Cast  in  thousand  snares  and  rings 
For  Love's  fingers  and  his  wings, 
Chestnut  colour, —  or,  more  slack, 
Gold  upon  a  ground  of  black ; 
Venus'  and  Minerva's  eyes, 
For  he  must  look  wanton-wise  ; 
Eye-brows  bent  like  Cupid's  bow ; 
Front  an  ample  field  of  snow ; 
Even  nose  ;  and  cheeks  withal 
Smooth  as  is  the  billiard-ball ; 
Chin  as  woolly  as  the  peach ; 
And  his  lip  should  kissing  teach, 
Till  he  cherish'd  too  much  beard 
And  made  love,  or  me,  afear'd. 
He  should  have  a  hand  as  soft 
As  the  down,  and  show  it  oft ; 
Skin  as  smooth  as  any  rush, 
And  so  thin  to  see  a  blush 
Rising  through  it,  ere  it  came  ; 
All  his  blood  should  be  a  flame 
Quickly  fired,  as  in  beginners 
In  Love's  school,  and  yet  no  sinners. 
'Twere  too  long  to  speak  of  all : 
What  we  harmony  do  call 
In  a  body  should  be  there  ; 
Well  he  should  his  clothes  too  wear, 
Yet  no  tailor  help  to  make  him, — 
Dress'd,  you  still  for  a  man  should  take  him, 


66  JONSON 

And  not  think  he  had  eat  a  stake 
Or  were  set  up  in  a  brake. 
Valiant  he  should  be,  as  fire 
Showing  danger  more  than  ire  ; 
Bounteous  as  the  clouds  to  earth  ; 
And  as  honest  as  his  birth  ; 
All  his  actions  to  be  such 
As  to  do  no  thing  too  much, — 
Nor  o'erpraise  nor  yet  condemn, 
Nor  out-value  nor  contemn, 
Nor  do  wrongs  nor  wrongs  receive, 
Nor  tie  knots  nor  knots  unweave  ; 
And  from  baseness  to  be  free, 
As  he  durst  love  Truth  and  Me. 

Such  a  man,  with  every  part, 
I  could  give  my  very  heart  : 
But  of  one  if  short  he  came, 
I  can  rest  me  where  I  am. 

IN  THE  PERSON  OF    WOMANKIND 


M 


EN  !  if  you  love  us,  play  no  more 
The  fools  or  tyrants  with  your  friends, 

To  make  us  still  sing  o'er  and  o'er 
Our  own  false  praises,  for  your  ends  : 

We  have  both  wits  and  fancies  too  ; 

And  if  we  must,  let 's  sing  of  you  ! 

Nor  do  we  doubt  but  that  we  can, 

If  we  would  search  with  care  and  pain, 

Find  some  one  good  in  some  one  man ; 
So,  going  thorough  all  your  strain, 


JONSON  67 

We  shall  at  last  of  parcels  make 

One  good  enough  —  for  a  song's  sake. 

And  as  a  cunning  painter  takes, 

In  any  curious  piece  you  see, 
More  pleasure  while  the  thing  he  makes 

Than  when  'tis  made,  why  so  will  we  : 
And  having  pleased  our  art  we  '11  try 
To  make  a  new,  and  hang  that  by. 

BEGGING   ANOTHER 

T^OR  LOVE'S  SAKE  kiss  me  once  again  ! 
•*•    I  long  and  should  not  beg  in  vain ; 

Here  's  none  to  spy  thee  : 
Why  do  you  doubt  or  stay? 

I  '11  taste  as  lightly  as  the  bee, 
That  doth  but  touch  his  flower  and  flies  away. 

One  more  !  and,  'faith,  I  will  be  gone  : 
Can  he  that  loves  ask  less  than  one  ? 
Nay  !  you  may  err  in  this 

And  all  your  bounty  wrong  : 
This  could  be  call'd  but  half  a  kiss ; 
What  were  but  once  to  do  we  should  do  long. 

I  will  but  mend  the  last,  and  tell 
Where,  how,  it  would  have  relish'd  well ; 
Join  lip  to  lip,  and  try  ! 

Each  suck  the  other's  breath, 
And  whilst  our  tongues  perplexed  lie 
Let  who  will  think  us  dead,  or  wish  our  death. 


68  JONSON 


SONG   OF  SATYRS 


B 


UZZ  !  quoth  the  Blue-Fly, 
Hum  !  quoth  the  Bee  ; 
Buzz  and  hum  !  they  cry, 

And  so  do  we. 
In  his  ear  !  in  his  nose  ! 
Thus, —  do  you  see? 

They  tickle  them. 

He  eat  the  Dormouse 

Else  it  was  he. 


HER    GLOVE 

HPHOU  more  than  most  sweet  Glove 
•*•  Unto  my  more  sweet  Love  ! 
Suffer  me  to  store  with  kisses 
This  empty  lodging  that  now  misses 
The  pure  rosy  hand  that  wore  thee, 
Whiter  than  the  kid  that  bore  thee. 
Thou  art  soft,  but  that  was  softer. 
Cupid's  self  hath  kiss'd  it  ofter 
Than  e'er  he  did  his  mother's  doves, 
Supposing  her  the  Queen  of  Loves 
That  was  thy  mistress,  Best  of  Gloves  ! 


JONSON  69 


ON  MARGARET  RATCLIFFE 

MARBLE  !  weep,  for  thou  dost  cover 
A  dead  beauty  underneath  thee, 
Rich  as  Nature  could  bequeath  thee  : 
Grant  then  no  rude  hand  remove  her  ! 
All  the  gazers  on  the  skies 
Read  not  in  fair  heaven's  story 
Expresser  truth  or  truer  glory 
Than  they  might  in  her  bright  eyes. 

Rare  as  wonder  was  her  wit, 
And  like  neclar  overflowing  ; 
Till  Time,  strong  by  her  bestowing, 
Conquer'd  hath  both  life  and  it : 
Life  whose  grief  was  out  of  fashion 
In  these  times.     Few  so  have  rued 
Fate  in  another.     To  conclude, — 
For  wit,  feature,  and  true  passion, 
Earth  !  thou  hast  not  such  another. 

HIS  EXCUSE  FOR   LOVING 

ET  IT  NOT  your  wonder  move, 
-* — '  Less  your  laughter,  that  I  love, 
Though  I  now  write  fifty  years  : 
I  have  had  and  have  my  peers. 
Poets,  though  divine,  are  men ; 
Some  have  loved  as  old  again. 
And  it  is  not  always  face, 
Clothes,  or  fortune,  gives  the  grace, 


/o  JONSON 


Or  the  feature,  or  the  youth  ; 
But  the  language,  and  the  truth 
With  the  ardour  and  the  passion, 
Gives  the  lover  weight  and  fashion. 
If  you  then  will  read  the  story, 
First  prepare  you  to  be  sorry 
That  you  never  knew  till  now 
Either  whom  to  love  or  how ; 
But  be  glad  as  soon,  with  me, 
When  you  know  that  this  is  She 
Of  whose  beauty  it  was  sung, — 
She  shall  make  the  old  man  young, 
Keep  the  middle  age  at  stay, 
And  let  nothing  high  decay, 
Till  She  be  the  reason  why 
All  the  world  for  love  may  die. 


"DREAK,  Phantasy  !  from  thy  cave  of  cloud 
-* — '        And  spread  thy  purple  wings, — 
Now  all  thy  figures  are  allow'd, 

And  various  shapes  of  things  : 
Create  of  airy  forms  a  stream  ! 
It  must  have  blood,  and  nought  of  phlegm  ; 

And  though  it  be  a  waking  dream, 
CHORUS  —  Yet  let  it  like  an  odour  rise 

To  all  the  senses  here, 
And  fall  like  sleep  upon  their  eyes 
Or  music  in  their  ear. 


FRANCIS   AND    WALTER   DAVISON 


TO    URANIA  — FOR   PARDON 

SWEET  !  I  do  not  pardon  crave, 
Till  I  have 

By  deserts  this  fault  amended  : 
This,  I  only  this  desire, 
That  your  ire 
May  with  penance  be  suspended. 

Not  my  will,  but  Fate,  did  fetch 

Me,  poor  wretch, 
Into  this  unhappy  error  : 
Which  to  plague,  no  tyrant's  mind 

Pain  can  find 
Like  my  heart's  self-guilty  terror. 

Then,  O  then,  let  that  suffice  ! 

Your  dear  eyes 

Need  not,  need  not  more  afflict  me ; 
Nor  your  sweet  tongue,  dipp'd  in  gall, 

Need  at  all 
From  your  presence  interdict  me. 

Unto  him  that  Hell  sustains 
No  new  pains 


72  DAVISON 


Need  be  sought  for  his  tormenting : 
O,  my  pains  Hell's  pains  surpass ; 

Yet,  alas  ! 
You  are  still  new  pains  inventing. 

By  my  love,  long,  firm,  and  true, 

Borne  to  you, — r 

By  these  tears  my  grief  expressing, — 
By  this  pipe,  which  nights  and  days 

Sounds  your  praise, — 
Pity  me,  my  fault  confessing  ! 

Or,  if  I  may  not  desire 

That  your  ire 

May  with  penance  be  suspended, 
Yet  let  me  full  pardon  crave 

When  I  have 
With  soon  death  my  fault  amended. 

URANIA'S  ANSWER 

IN  INVERTED  RHYMES— STAFF  FOR  STAFF 

OINCE  true  penance  hath  suspended 
^— '  Feigned  ire, 

More  I  '11  grant  than  you  desire. 

Faults  confess'd  are  half  amended ; 
And  I  have, 

In  this  half,  all  that  I  crave. 

Therefore  banish  now  the  terror 

Which  you  find 
In  your  guiltless  grieved  mind  ! 


DAVISON  73 

For,  though  you  have  made  an  error, 

From  me,  wretch, 
First  beginning  it  did  fetch. 

Ne'er  my  sight  I  '11  interdict  thee 

More  at  all ; 

Ne'er  speak  words  more  dipp'd  in  gall ; 
Ne'er,  ne'er  will  I  more  afflict  thee 

With  these  eyes  : 
What  is  past  shall  now  suffice. 

Now  new  joys  I  '11  be  inventing, 

Which,  alas  ! 

May  thy  passed  woes  surpass. 
Too  long  thou  hast  felt  tormenting ; 

Too  great  pains 
So  great  love  and  faith  sustains. 

Let  these  eyes,  by  thy  confessing 

Worthy  praise, 

Never  see  more  nights  nor  days, — 
Let  my  woes  be  past  expressing, — 

When  to  you 
I  cease  to  be  kind  and  true  ! 

Thus  are  both  our  states  amended  : 

For  you  have 

Fuller  pardon  than  you  crave ; 
And  my  fear  is  quite  suspended, 

Since  mine  ire 
Wrought  the  effect  I  most  desire. 


74  DAVISON 


UPON  HER   PROTESTING 

THAT  SHE  LOVED  HIM 

T    ADY  !   you  are  with  beauties  so  enriched, 
-* — '  Of  body  and  of  mind, 

As  I  can  hardly  find 
Which  of  them  all  hath  most  my  heart  bewitched. 

Whether  your  skin  so  white,  so  smooth,  so  tender, 

Or  face  so  lovely  fair, 

Or  heart-ensnaring  hair, 
Or  dainty  hand,  or  leg  and  foot  so  slender.  •    .- 

Or  whether  your  sharp  wit  and  lively  spirit, 
Where  pride  can  find  no  place, 
Or  your  most  pleasing  grace, 

Or  speech,  which  doth  true  eloquence  inherit. 

Most  lovely  all,  and  each  of  them  doth  move  me 
More  than  words  can  express ; 
But  yet  I  must  confess 

I  love  you  most  because  you  please  to  love  me. 


P 


DAVISON  75 


ONLY  SHE  PLEASES  HIM 

ASSIGN  may  my  judgment  blear, 
Therefore  sure  I  will  not  swear 

That  others  are  not  pleasing  : 
But  (I  speak  it  to  my  pain 
And  my  life  shall  it  maintain) 

None  else  yields  my  heart  easing. 

Ladies  I  do  think  there  be, 
Other  some  as  fair  as  she, 

Though  none  have  fairer  features  ; 
But  my  turtle-like  affection, 
Since  of  her  I  made  election, 

Scorns  other  fairest  creatures. 

Surely  I  will  not  deny 

But  some  others  reach  as  high 

With  their  sweet  warbling  voices  ; 
But,  since  her  notes  charm'd  mine  ear, 
Even  the  sweetest  tunes  I  hear 

To  me  seem  rude  harsh  noises. 

A    COMPARISON 


OOME  THERE  ARE  as  fair  to  see  too, 
^~*     But  by  art  and  not  by  nature  ; 
Some  as  tall,  and  goodly  be  too, 

But  want  beauty  to  their  stature  ; 
Some  have  gracious,  kind  behaviour, 
But  are  foul  or  simple  creatures  ; 


/6  DAVISON 


Some  have  wit,  but  want  sweet  favour, 
Or  are  proud  of  their  good  features  : 
Only  you  —  and  you  want  pity  — 
Are  most  fair,  tall,  kind,  and  witty. 


TO    CUPID 

T    OVE  !  if  a  God  thou  art, 

-• — '        Then  evermore  thou  must 

Be  merciful  and  just : 
If  thou  be  just,  O  wherefore  doth  thy  dart 
Wound  mine  alone,  and  not  my  Lady's  heart  ? 

If  merciful,  then  way 

Am  I  to  pain  reserved 
Who  have  thee  truly  served, 
While  she  that  by  thy  power  sets  not  a  fly 
Laughs  thee  to  scorn  and  lives  at  liberty? 

Then  if  a  God  thou  wilt  accounted  be, 
Heal  me  like  her,  or  else  wound  her  like  me  ! 


BEAUMONT  AND   FLETCHER 


TELL  ME! 

HE  —  TELL  me,  Dearest !  what  is  love  ? 
SHE  —  Tis  a  lightning  from  above ; 
'Tis  an  arrow ;  'tis  a  fire ; 
'Tis  a  boy  they  call  Desire. 
BOTH  —  'Tis  a  grave 

Gapes  to  have 
Those  poor  fools  that  long  to  prove. 

HE  —  Tell  me  more  !     Are  women  true  ? 
SHE  —  Yes  !  some  are ;  and  some  as  you. 
Some  are  willing,  some  are  strange, 
Since  you  men  first  taught  to  change. 
BOTH  —  And  till  troth 

Be  in  both 
All  shall  love  to  love  anew. 

HE  —  Tell  me  more  yet !     Can  they  grieve  ? 
SHE  —  Yes  !  and  sicken  sore,  but  live, 
And  be  wiser  and  delay 
When  you  men  are  wise  as  they. 
BOTH  —  Then  I  see 

Faith  will  be 
Never  till  they  both  believe. 


78  BEAUMONT   AND    FLETCHER 


WEDDING   SONG 

HOLD  BACK  thy  hours,  dark  Night !  till  we  have  done : 
The  day  will  come  too  soon. 
Young  maids  will  curse  thee  if  thou  stealest  away 
And  leavest  their  losses  open  to  the  day. 
Stay  !  stay,  and  hide 
The  blushes  of  the  bride  ! 

Stay,  gentle  Night !  and  with  thy  darkness  cover 

The  kisses  of  her  lover  ! 

Stay,  and  confound  her  tears  and  her  shrill  cryings, 
Her  weak  denials,  vows,  and  often  dyings  ! 

Stay,  and  hide  all ; 
But  help  not,  though  she  call ! 


FREEDOM  IN  LOVE 

NEVER  MORE  will  I  protest 
To  love  a  woman,  but  in  jest : 
For  as  they  can  not  be  true, 
So  to  give  each  man  his  due, 
When  the  wooing  fit  is  past 
Their  affe&ion  can  not  last. 

Therefore,  if  I  chance  to  meet 
With  a  mistress  fair  and  sweet, 
She  my  service  shall  obtain, 
Loving  her,  for  love  again  : 
This  much  liberty  I  crave, — 
Not  to  be  a  constant  slave. 


BEAUMONT    AND    FLETCHER  79 

But,  when  we  have  tried  each  other, 
If  she  better  like  another, 
Let  her  quickly  change  !  for  me 
Then  to  change  I  am  as  free. 
He  or  She  that  loves  too  long 
Sell  their  freedom  for  a  song. 


TRUE  BEAUTY 

AY  I  FIND  a  woman  fair, 
And  her  mind  as  clear  as  air  ! 
If  her  beauty  go  alone, 
Tis  to  me  as  if  'twere  none. 


M 


May  I  find  a  woman  rich, 
And  not  of  too  high  a  pitch  ! 
If  that  pride  should  cause  disdain, 
Tell  me,  Lover  !  where  's  thy  gain. 

May  I  find  a  woman  wise, 
And  her  falsehood  not  disguise  ! 
Hath  she  wit  as  she  hath  will, 
Double-arm'd  she  is  to  kill. 

May  I  find  a  woman  kind, 
And  not  wavering  like  the  wind  ! 
How  should  I  call  that  love  mine 
When  'tis  his,  and  his,  and  thine  ? 

May  I  find  a  woman  true  ! 
There  is  beauty's  fairest  hue  : 
There  is  beauty,  love,  and  wit. 
Happy  he  can  compass  it ! 


8O  BEAUMONT    AND    FLETCHER 


HYMN  TO  PAN 

SING  HIS  PRAISES,  that  doth  keep 
Our  flocks  from  harm, 
Pan,  the  father  of  our  sheep  ; 

And,  arm  in  arm, 
Tread  we  softly  in  a  round, 
While  the  hollow  neighbouring  ground 
Fills  the  music  with  her  sound. 

Pan  !  O  great  god  Pan  !  to  thee 

Thus  do  we  sing  : 
Thou  that  keep'st  us  chaste  and  free 

As  the  young  Spring. 
Ever  be  thy  honour  spoke, 
From  that  place  where  Morning  broke 
To  that  place  Day  doth  unyoke  ! 


SONG  FOR   A   DANCE 

O  HAKE  OFF  your  heavy  trance  ! 
^-*      And  leap  into  a  dance 
Such  as  no  mortals  use  to  tread  : 

Fit  only  for  Apollo 
To  play  to,  for  the  Moon  to  lead, 
And  all  the  Stars  to  follow. 


ROBERT   BURTON 


THE  ABSTRACT  OF  MELANCHOLY 

WHEN  I  go  musing  all  alone, 
Thinking  of  divers  things  foreknown, 
When  I  build  castles  in  the  air, 
Void  of  sorrow  and  void  of  fear, 
Pleasing  myself  with  phantasms  sweet, 
Methinks  the  time  runs  very  fleet. 
All  my  joys  to  this  are  folly  : 
Nought  so  sweet  as  melancholy  ! 

When  I  lie  waking,  all  alone, 
Recounting  what  I  have  ill  done, 
My  thoughts  on  me  then  tyrannize, 
Fear  and  sorrow  me  surprize  : 
Whether  I  tarry  still  or  go, 
Methinks  the  time  moves  very  slow. 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly  : 
Nought  so  sad  as  melancholy  ! 

When  to  myself  I  act,  and  smile, 
With  pleasing  thoughts  the  time  beguile, 
By  a  brook-side  or  wood  so  green, 
Unheard,  unsought  for,  or  unseen, 


82  BURTON 

A  thousand  pleasures  do  me  bless 
And  crown  my  soul  with  happiness. 
All  my  joys  besides  are  folly  : 
Nought  so  sweet  as  melancholy  ! 

When  I  lie,  sit,  or  walk  alone, 
I  sigh,  I  grieve,  making  great  moan, 
In  a  dark  grove,  or  irksome  den, 
With  discontents  and  furies, —  then 
A  thousand  miseries  at  once 
Mine  heavy  heart  and  soul  ensconce. 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly  : 
None  so  sour  as  melancholy  ! 

Methinks  I  hear,  methinks  I  see, 
Sweet  music,  wondrous  melody, 
Towns,  palaces,  and  cities  fine, — 
Here  now,  then  there,  the  world  is  mine  ; 
Rare  beauties,  gallant  ladies  shine, 
Whate'er  is  lovely  or  divine. 
All  other  joys  to  this  are  folly : 
None  so  sweet  as  melancholy  ! 

Methinks  I  hear,  methinks  I  see, 
Ghosts,  goblins,  fiends, —  my  phantasy 
Presents  a  thousand  ugly  shapes, 
Headless  bears,  black  men,  and  apes ; 
Doleful  outcries,  fearful  sights, 
My  sad  and  dismal  soul  affrights. 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly  : 
None  so  damn'd  as  melancholy  ! 


BURTON  83 

Methinks  I  court,  methinks  I  kiss, 
Methinks  I  now  embrace  my  Miss  : 

0  blessed  days  !  O  sweet  content ! 
In  Paradise  my  time  is  spent. 

Such  thoughts  may  still  my  fancy  move  : 
So  may  I  ever  be  in  love  ! 
All  my  joys  to  this  are  folly  : 
Nought  so  sweet  as  melancholy  ! 

When  I  recount  love's  many  frights, 
My  sighs  and  tears,  my  waking  nights, 
My  jealous  fits, —  O  mine  hard  fate  ! 

1  now  repent,  but  'tis  too  late. 
No  torment  is  so  bad  as  love, 
So  bitter  to  my  soul  can  prove. 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly  : 
Nought  so  harsh  as  melancholy  ! 

Friends  and  companions  !  get  you  gone  ! 

Tis  my  desire  to  be  alone  : 

Ne'er  well  but  when  my  thoughts  and  I 

Do  domineer  in  privacy. 

No  gem,  no  treasure  like  to  this, 

'Tis  my  delight,  my  crown,  my  bliss. 

All  my  joys  to  this  are  folly  : 

Nought  so  sweet  as  melancholy  ! 

'Tis  my  sole  plague  to  be  alone  : 
I  am  a  beast,  a  monster  grown ; 
I  will  no  light  nor  company, 
I  find  it  now  my  misery  : 


84  BURTON 

The  scene  is  turn'd,  my  joys  are  gone, 
Fear,  discontent,  and  sorrows  come. 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly  : 
Nought  so  fierce  as  melancholy  ! 

I  '11  not  change  life  with  any  king, 
I  ravish'd  am  :  can  the  world  bring 
More  joy  than  still  to  laugh  and  smile, 
In  pleasant  toys  time  to  beguile  ? 
Do  not,  O  do  not  trouble  me  ! 
So  sweet  content  I  fee1!  and  see. 
All  my  joys  to  this  are  folly  : 
None  so  divine  as  melancholy  ! 

I  '11  change  my  state  with  any  wretch 
Thou  canst  from  jail  or  dunghill  fetch  ; 
My  pain  past  cure,  another  hell, 
I  may  not  in  this  torment  dwell. 
Now,  desperate,  I  hate  my  life ; 
Lend  me  a  halter  or  a  knife  ! 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly  : 
Nought  so  damn'd  as  melancholy  ! 


WILLIAM   DRUMMOND 


O ITH  gone  is  my  delight  and  only  pleasure, 

**— '  The  last  of  all  my  hopes,  the  cheerful  sun 

That  clear'd  my  life's  dark  day,  Nature's  sweet  treasure, 

More  dear  to  me  than  all  beneath  the  moon, 

What  resteth  now  but  that  upon  this  mountain 

I  weep  till  heaven  transform  me  to  a  fountain? 

Fresh,  fair,  delicious,  crystal,  pearly  fountain, 

On  whose  smooth  face  to  look  She  oft  took  pleasure  ! 

Tell  me  (so  may  thy  streams  long  cheer  this  mountain, 

So  serpent  ne'er  thee  stain,  nor  scorch  thee  sun, 

So  may  with  gentle  beams  thee  kiss  the  moon  !) 

Dost  thou  not  mourn  to  want  so  fair  a  treasure  ? 

While  She  her  glass'd  in  thee  rich  Tagus'  treasure 

Thou  envy  needed  not,  nor  yet  the  fountain 

In  which  the  hunter  saw  the  naked  Moon ; 

Absence  hath  robb'd  thee  of  thy  wealth  and  pleasure, 

And  I  remain  like  marigold,  of  sun 

Deprived,  that  dies,  by  shadow  of  some  mountain. 

Nymphs  of  the  forests,  nymphs  who  on  this  mountain 
Are  wont  to  dance,  showing  your  beauty's  treasure 
To  goat-feet  Sylvans  and  the  wondering  Sun  ! 
Whenas  you  gather  flowers  about  this  fountain, 


86  DRUMMOND 


Bid  Her  farewell  who  placed  here  her  pleasure  ; 
And  sing  her  praises  to  the  stars  and  moon  ! 

Among  the  lesser  lights  as  is  the  Moon, 

Blushing  through  scarf  of  clouds  on  Latmos  mountain 

Or  when  her  silver  locks  she  looks  for  pleasure 

In  Thetis'  stream  proud  of  so  gay  a  treasure, 

Such  was  my  Fair  when  she  sat  by  this  fountain, 

With  other  nymphs,  to  shun  the  amorous  Sun. 

As  is  our  earth  in  absence  of  the  sun, 

Or  when  of  sun  deprived  is  the  moon, 

As  is  without  a  verdant  shade  a  fountain, 

Or  wanting  grass  a  mead,  a  vale,  a  mountain, —  . 

Such  is  my  state,  bereft  of  my  dear  treasure, 

To  know  whose  only  worth  was  all  my  pleasure. 

Ne'er  think  of  pleasure,  heart ! —  eyes  !  shun  the  sun ; 
Tears  be  your  treasure,  which  the  wandering  moon 
Shall  see  you  shed,  by  mountain,  vale,  and  fountain. 

DEATH  NOT  FEARED 

T   FEAR  NOT  henceforth  death, 
•*   Sith  after  this  departure  yet  I  breathe. 
Let  rocks  and  seas  and  wind 
Their  highest  treasons  show  ; 
Let  sky  and  earth  combined 
Strive  if  they  can  to  end  my  life  and  woe  ! 
Sith  grief  can  not,  me  nothing  can  o'erthrow. 
Or  if  that  aught  can  cause  my  fatal  lot, 
It  will  be  when  I  hear  I  am  forgot. 


DRUMMOND  8/ 


MADRIGAL 

O  WEET  ROSE  !  whence  is  this  hue 
^— '       Which  doth  all  hues  excel? 

Whence  this  most  fragrant  smell? 

And  whence  this  form  and  gracing  grace  in  yon  ? 

In  flowery  Pcestum's  field  perhaps  ye  grew, 

Or  Hybla's  hills  you  bred, 
Or  odoriferous  Enna's  plains  you  fed, 
Or  Tmolus,  or  where  boar  young  Adon  slew. 
Or  hath  the  Queen  of  Love  you  dyed  of  new 
In  that  dear  blood,  which  makes  you  look  so  red  ? 
No  !  none  of  these,  but  cause  more  high  you  bliss'd 
My  Lady's  breast  you  bare,  and  lips  you  kiss'd. 


PLEASANT  DEATH 

DEAR  LIFE  !  while  I  do  touch 
These  coral  ports  of  bliss, 
Which  still  themselves  do  kiss 
And  sweetly  me  invite  to  do  as  much, 
All  panting  in  my  lips 
My  heart  my  sense  doth  leave, 
No  sense  my  senses  have, 
And  inward  powers  do  find  a  strange  eclipse. 
This  death  so  heavenly  well 
Doth  so  me  please,  that  I 
Would  never  longer  seek  in  sense  to  dwell, 
If  that  even  thus  I  only  could  but  die. 


88  DRUMMOND 


MADRIGAL 

A   DAEDAL  of  my  death  — 
J-*-  I  semble  now  that  subtle  worm  uneath  : 
Which,  prone  to  its  own  ill,  can  take  no  rest : 
For,  with  strange  thoughts  possess'd, 
I  feed  on  fading  leaves 
Of  hope,  which  me  deceives 
And  thousand  webs  doth  warp  within  my  breast. 
And  thus  in  end  unto  myself  I  weave 
A  fast-shut  prison No  !  but  even  a  grave. 


NATHANIEL   FIELD 


MATIN  SONG 

RISE,  Lady  Mistress  !  rise  ! 
The  night  hath  tedious  been ; 
No  sleep  hath  fallen  into  mine  eyes, 

Nor  slumbers  made  me  sin. 
Is  not  She  a  saint  then,  say  ! 
Thought  of  whom  keeps  sin  away  ? 

Rise  Madam  !  rise,  and  give  me  light, 
Whom  darkness  still  will  cover 

And  ignorance,  more  dark  than  night, 
Till  thou  smile  on  thy  lover. 

All  want  day  till  thy  beauty  rise  : 
For  the  grey  morn  breaks  from  thine  eyes. 


JOHN    WEBSTER 


DIRGE 

HARK  !  now  every  thing  is  still, 
The  screech-owl  and  the  whistler  shrill 
Call  upon  our  Dame  aloud, 
And  bid  her  quickly  don  her  shroud. 
Much  you  had  of  land  and  rent, — 
Your  length  in  clay  's  now  competent ; 
A  long  war  disturb'd  your  mind, — 
Here  your  perfect  peace  is  sign'd. 
Of  what  is 't  fools  make  such  vain  keeping  ? 
Sin  their  conception,  their  birth  weeping, 
Their  life  a  general  mist  of  error, 
Their  death  a  hideous  storm  of  terror. 
Strew  your  hair  with  powders  sweet ; 
Don  clean  linen  ;  bathe  your  feet ; 
And  (the  foul  fiend  more  to  check) 
A  crucifix  let  bless  your  neck  ! 
'Tis  now  full  tide  'tween  night  and  day  : 
End  your  groan  and  come  away  ! 


WILLIAM   BROWNE 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

T  7"ENUS  by  Adonis'  side 
V    Crying  kiss'H  and  kissing  cried  ; 
Wrung  her  hands  and  tore  her  hair 
For  Adonis  dying  there. 

Stay  !  quoth  she  :  O  stay  and  live  ! 
Nature  surely  doth  not  give 
To  the  earth  her  sweetest  flowers 
To  be  seen  but  some  few  hours. 

On  his  face,  still  as  he  bled, 
For  each  drop  a  tear  she  shed, 
Which  she  kiss'd  or  wiped  away,— 
Else  had  drown'd  him  where  he  lay. 

Fair  Proserpina,  quoth  she, 
Shall  not  have  thee  yet  from  me  ; 
Nor  thy  soul  to  fly  begin 
While  my  lips  can  keep  it  in. 

Here  she  closed  again.     And  some 
Say  —  Apollo  would  have  come 
To- have  cured  his  wounded  limb, — 
But  that  she  had  smother'd  him. 


> 


ROBERT   HERRICK 


THE   TEAR 

LIDE,  gentle  Stream  !  and  bear 
Along  with  you  my  tear 
To  that  coy  Girl 

Who  smiles,  yet  slays 

Me  with  delays, 

And  strings  my  tears  as  pearl. 

See  !  see  !  She  's  yonder  set, 
Making  a  carcanet 

Of  maiden  flowers  : 
There,  there  present 
This  orient 

And  pendant  pearl  of  ours  ! 

Then  say  I  Ve  sent  one  more 
Gem  to  enrich  her  store  ; 

And  that  is  all 
Which  I  can  send 
Or  vainly  spend, 

For  tears  no  more  will  fall. 

Nor  will  I  seek  supply 
Of  them,  the  springs  once  dry  ; 
But  I  '11  devise 


92  HERRICK 

(Among  the  rest) 
A  way  that 's  best 

How  I  may  save  mine  eyes. 

Yet  say,  should  She  condemn 
Me  to  surrender  them, — 

Then  say,  my  part 
Must  be  to  weep 
Out  them,  to  keep 

A  poor  yet  loving  heart. 

Say  too,  She  would  have  this  : 
She  shall.     Then  my  hope  is 

That,  when  I  'm  poor, 
And  nothing  have 
To  send  or  save, 

I  'm  sure  She  '11  ask  no  more. 

SWEET  AMARYLLIS 

O  WEET  AMARYLLIS,  by  a  spring's 
ks— '  Soft  and  soul-melting  murmurings 
Slept ;  and,  thus  sleeping,  thither  flew 
A  Robin  Red-breast,  who  at  view, 
Not  seeing  her  at  all  to  stir, 
Brought  leaves  and  moss  to  cover  her. 
But  while  he,  perking,  there  did  pry, 
About  the  arch  of  either  eye 
The  lid  began  to  let  out  day  : 
At  which  poor  Robin  flew  away ; 
And  seeing  her  not  dead,  but  all  disleaved, 
He  chirp'd  for  joy  to  see  himself  deceived. 


HERRICK  93 


PANSIES 

T^ROLIC  VIRGINS  once  these  were, 
-*-    Over-loving,  living  here, — 
Being  here  their  ends  denied, 
Ran  for  Sweethearts  mad,  and  died. 
Love,  in  pity  of  their  tears, 
And  their  loss  in  blooming  years, 
For  their  restless  here-spent  hours 
Gave  them  hearts'  ease,  turn'd  to  Flowers. 


TO  DAISIES 


OHUT  NOT  so  soon  !  the  dull-eyed  Night 


To  make  a  seizure  on  the  light 
Or  to  seal  up  the  sun. 

No  marigolds  yet  closed  are, 
No  shadows  great  appear, 

Nor  doth  the  early  shepherd's  star 
Shine  like  a  spangle  here. 

Stay  but  until  my  Julia  close 

Her  life-begetting  eye  : 
And  let  the  whole  world  then  dispose 

Itself  to  live  or  die. 


94  HERRICK 


LOVE  MAKES  ALL  LOVELY 

WHAT  I   FANCY  I  approve: 
No  dislike  there  is  in  love. 
Be  my  Mistress  short  or  tall, 
And  distorted  therewithal, 
Be  She  likewise  one  of  those 
That  an  acre  hath  of  nose, 
Be  her  forehead  and  her  eyes 
Full  of  incongruities, 
Be  her  cheeks  so  shallow  too 
As  to  show  her  tongue  wag  through, 
Be  her  lips  ill  hung  or  set, 
And  her  grinders  black  as  jet, 
Hath  She  thin  hair,  hath  She  none, 
She  's  to  me  a  paragon. 

A    VALENTINE 

/CHOOSE  ME  your  Valentine  ! 
^^      Next,  let  us  marry  ! 
Love  to  the  death  will  pine 
If  we  long  tarry. 

Promise  and  keep  your  vows, 

Or  vow  you  never  ! 
Love's  doctrine  disallows 

Troth-breakers  ever. 

You  have  broke  promise  twice, 

Dear  !  to  undo  me  ; 
If  you  prove  faithless  thrice, 

None  then  will  woo  ye. 


HERRICK  95 


TO    WATER-NYMPHS 

DRINKING   AT  A   FOUNTAIN 

EACH  with  your  whiter  hands  to  me 
-L  V     Some  crystal  of  the  spring  ! 
And  I  about  the  cup  shall  see 
Fresh  lilies  flourishing. 

Or  else,  sweet  Nymphs  !  do  you  but  this  : 

To  the  glass  your  lips  incline, 
And  I  shall  see  by  that  one  kiss 
The  water  turn'd  to  wine. 


I 


DARE  NOT  ask  a  kiss, 
I  dare  not  beg  a  smile, 

Lest  having  that  or  this 

I  might  grow  proud  the  while. 

No  !  no  !  the  utmost  share 

Of  my  desire  shall  be 
Only  to  kiss  that  air 

That  lately  kissed  thee. 


RICHARD   BRATHWAITE 


A  FIG  FOR    CARE 

IT  APPY  is  that  state  of  his 

•*•  -•-    Who  the  world  takes  as  it  is  ! 

Lose  he  honour,  friendship,  wealth, 
Lose  he  liberty  or  health, 
Lose  he  all  that  earth  can  give, 
Having  nought  whereon  to  live, 
So  prepared  a  mind 's  in  him, 
He 's  resolved  to  sink  or  swim. 

Should  I  aught  dejeded  be 
'Cause  blind  Fortune  frowns  on  me  ? 
Or  put  finger  in  the  eye 
When  I  see  my  Damon  die  ? 
Or  repine  such  should  inherit 
More  of  honours  than  of  merit  ? 
Or  put  on  a  sourer  face 
To  see  Virtue  in  disgrace  ? 

Should  I  weep  when  I  do  try 
Fickle  friends'  inconstancy, 
Quite  discarding  mine  and  me 
When  they  should  the  firmest  be  ? 


BRATHWAITE  97 


Or  think  much  when  barren  brains 
Are  possess'd  of  rich  domains, 
When  in  reason  it  were  fit 
They  had  wealth  unto  their  wit  ? 

Should  I  spend  the  morn  in  tears 
'Cause  I  see  my  neighbour's  ears 
Stand  so  slopewise  from  his  head, 
As  if  they  were  horns  instead  ? 
Or  to  see  his  wife  at  once 
Branch  his  brow  and  break  his  sconce  ; 
Or  to  hear  her  in  her  spleen 
Callet  like  a  butter-quean  ? 

Should  I  sigh  because  I  see 
Laws  like  spider-webs  to  be, 
Lesser  flies  there  quickly  ta'en, 
While  the  great  break  out  again? 
Or  so  many  schisms  and  seels, 
Which  foul  heresy  detedls, 
To  suppress  the  fire  of  zeal 
Both  in  church  and  commonweal? 

No  !  there  's  nought  on  earth  I  fear 
That  may  force  from  me  one  tear. 
Loss  of  honours,  freedom,  health  ; 
Or  that  mortal  idol,  wealth  : 
With  these  babes  may  grieved  be, 
But  they  have  no  power  o'er  me. 
Less  my  substance,  less  my  share 
In  my  fear  and  in  my  care. 


98 


BRATHWAITE 


Thus  to  love,  and  thus  to  live, 
Thus  to  take,  and  thus  to  give, 
Thus  to  laugh,  and  thus  to  sing, 
Thus  to  mount  on  pleasure's  wing, 
Thus  to  sport,  and  thus  to  speed, 
Thus  to  flourish,  nourish,  feed, 
Thus  to  spend,  and  thus  to  spare, 
Is  to  bid  a  fig  for  care. 


THOMAS   GOFFE 


TO   SLEEP 

T~\ROP  golden  showers,  gentle  Sleep  ! 

•*— '     And  all  ye  Angels  of  the  Night 
Which  do  us  in  protection  keep, 
Make  this  Queen  dream  of  delight ! 
Morpheus  !  kind  a  little,  be 
Death's  now  true  image,  for  'twill  prove 
To  this  poor  Queen  that  thou  art  he  : 
Her  grave  is  made  i'  the  bed  of  Love. 
Thus  with  sweet  sweets  can  Heaven  mix  gall, 
And  marriage  turn  to  funeral. 


JAMES   SHIRLEY 


TO    ODELIA 

IT  EALTH  to  my  fair  Odelia  !     Some  that  know 

How  many  months  are  past 
Since  I  beheld  thy  lovely  brow, 
Would  count  an  age  at  least ; 

But  unto  me, 
Whose  thoughts  are  still  on  thee, 

I  vow 
By  thy  black  eyes,  'tis  but  an  hour  ago. 

That  Mistress  I  pronounce  but  poor  in  bliss 

That,  when  her  servant  parts, 
Gives  not  as  much  with  her  last  kiss 
As  will  maintain  two  hearts 

Till  both  do  meet 
To  taste  what  else  is  sweet. 

Is  't  fit 
Time  measure  love,  or  our  affection  it  ? 

Cherish  that  heart,  Odelia  !  that  is  mine  : 

And  if  the  North  thou  fear, 
Dispatch  but  from  thy  southern  clime 
A  sigh,  to  warm  thine  here  ! 
But  be  so  kind 


I 


IOO  SHIRLEY 


To  send  by  the  next  wind  : 

Tis  far, 
And  many  accidents  do  wait  on  war. 

HUE  AND    CRY 

N  LOVE'S  NAME  you  are  charged.     O  fly, 
And  make  a  speedy  hue  and  cry 
After  a  face,  which  t'  other  day 
Stole  my  wandering  heart  away  ! 
To  direcl:  you  take,  in  brief, 
These  few  marks  to  know  the  thief. 
Her  hair,  a  net  of  beams,  would  prove 
Strong  enough  to  imprison  Jove 
Dress'd  in  his  eagle's  shape  ;  her  brow 
Is  a  spacious  field  of  snow ; 
Her  eyes  so  rich,  so  pure  a  grey, 
Every  look  creates  a  day, 
And  if  they  close  themselves  (not  when 
The  sun  doth  set)  'tis  night  again ; 
In  her  cheeks  are  to  be  seen 
Of  flowers  both  the  king  and  queen, 
Thither  by  all  the  Graces  led 
And  smiling  in  their  nuptial  bed ; 
On  whom,  like  pretty  nymphs,  do  wait 
Her  twin-born  lips,  whose  virgin  state 
They  do  deplore  themselves,  nor  miss 
To  blush  so  often  as  they  kiss 
Without  a  man.     Beside  the  rest, 
You  shall  know  this  felon  best 
By  her  tongue  :  for  when  your  ear 


I 


SHIRLEY  IOI 

Once  a  harmony  shall  hear 
So  ravishing  you  do  not  know 
Whether  you  be  in  heaven  or  no, 
That,  that  is  She.     O  straight  surprize 
And  bring  her  unto  Love's  assize  ! 
But  lose  no  time,  for  fear  that  she 
Ruin  all  mankind  like  me, 
Fate  and  philosophy  controul, 
And  leave  the  world  without  a  soul. 

TO   HIS  MISTRESS 

WOULD  the  God  of  Love  would  die, 
And  give  his  bow  and  shafts  to  me  : 

I  ask  no  other  legacy  : 
This  happy  fate  I  then  would  prove, 
That,  since  thy  heart  I  can  not  move 
I  'd  cure  and  kill  my  own  with  love. 

Yet  why  should  I  so  cruel  be, 
To  kill  myself  with  loving  thee, 

And  thou  a  tyrant  still  to  me  ? 
Perhaps,  could'st  thou  affection  show 
To  me,  I  should  not  love  thee  so, 
And  that  would  be  my  medicine  too. 

Then  choose  to  love  me  or  deny, 
I  will  not  be  so  fond  to  die, 
A  martyr  to  thy  cruelty  : 
If  thou  be'st  weary  of  me,  when 
Thou  art  so  wise  to  love  again, 
Command,  and  I  '11  forsake  thee  then. 


IO2  SHIRLEY 


SONG   TO   HYMEN 

WHAT  HELP  of  tongue  do  they  require 
Or  use  of  other  art, 

Whose  hands  thus  speak  their  chaste  desire 
And  grasp  each  other's  heart? 

Weak  is  that  chain  that  's  made  of  air, 
Our  tongues  but  chase  our  breath  : 

When  palms  thus  meet  there  's  no  despair 
To  make  a  double  wreath. 

Give  but  a  sigh,  a  speaking  look, 

I  care  not  for  more  noise  ; 
Or  let  me  kiss  your  hand  —  the  book, 

And  I  have  made  my  choice. 

TO    ONE  SAYING   SHE    WAS   OLD 


ME  NOT  Time  hath  play'd  the  thief 
-*-  Upon  her  beauty  !     My  belief 

Might  have  been  mock'd,  and  I  had  been 

An  heretic,  if  I  had  not  seen 

My  Mistress  is  still  fair  to  me, 

And  now  I  all  those  graces  see 

That  did  adorn  her  virgin  brow. 

Her  eye  hath  the  same  flame  in  't  now, 

To  kill  or  save,  the  chemist's  fire 

Equally  burns,  —  so  my  desire; 

Not  any  ro.;e-bud  less  within 

Her  cheek  ;  the  same  snow  on  her  chin  ; 

Her  voice  that  heavenly  music  bears 


SHIRLEY  IO3 

First  charm'd  my  soul,  and  in  my  ears 
Did  leave  it  trembling ;  her  lips  are 
The  self-same  lovely  twins  they  were  ; — 
After  so  many  years  I  miss 
No  flower  in  all  my  paradise. 
Time  !  I  despise  thy  rage  and  thee  : 
Thieves  do  not  always  thrive,  I  see. 

THE  LOOKING-GLASS 

WHEN  this  crystal  shall  present 
Your  beauty  to  your  eye, 
Think  !  that  lovely  face  was  meant 

To  dress  another  by. 
For  not  to  make  them  proud 
These  glasses  are  allow'd 
To  those  are  fair, 
But  to  compare 

The  inward  beauty  with  the  outward  grace, 
And  make  them  fair  in  soul  as  well  as  face. 


I 


ON  HER  DANCING 

STOOD  and  saw  my  Mistress  dance, 
Silent,  and  with  so  fix'd  an  eye, 
Some  might  suppose  me  in  a  trance  : 

But  being  asked  why, 
By  One  that  knew  I  was  in  love, 

I  could  not  but  impart 
My  wonder,  to  behold  her  move 
So  nimbly  with  a  marble  heart. 


WILLIAM   HABINGTON 


QUI  QUASI  FLOS  EGEEDITUR 


MADAM  !  you 

May  see  what  's  man  in  yon  bright  rose  : 
Though  it  the  wealth  of  Nature  owes, 
It  is  oppress'd  and  bends  with  dew. 

Which  shows,  though  Fate 
May  promise  still  to  warm  our  lips, 
And  keep  our  eyes  from  an  eclipse, 
It  will  our  pride  with  tears  abate. 

Poor  silly  flower  ! 

Though  on  thy  beauty  thou  presume, 
And  breath  which  doth  the  Spring  perfume, 
Thou  mayst  be  cropp'd  this  very  hour. 

And  though  it  may 
Then  thy  good  fortune  be  to  rest 
On  the  pillow  of  some  Lady's  breast, 
Thou  'It  wither  and  be  thrown  away. 

For  'tis  thy  doom, 
However,  that  there  shall  appear 
No  memory  that  thou  grew'st  here, 
Ere  the  tempestuous  winter  come. 


HABINGTON  IO5 


But  flesh  is  loath 
By  meditation  to  foresee 
How  loathed  a  nothing  it  must  be, — 
Proud  in  the  triumphs  of  its  growth ; 

And  tamely  can 

Behold  this  mighty  world  decay 
And  wear  by  the  age  of  Time  away, 
Yet  not  discourse  the  fall  of  man. 

But,  Madam  !  these 
Are  thoughts  to  cure  sick  human  pride 
And  medicines  are  in  vain  applied 
To  bodies  far  'bove  all  disease. 

For  you  so  live 

As  the  Angels,  in  one  perfect  state  : 
Safe  from  the  ruins  of  our  fate 
By  virtue's  great  preservative.. 

And  though  we  see 
Beauty  enough  to  warm  each  heart, 
Yet  you,  by  a  chaste  chemic  art, 
Calcine  frail  love  to  piety. 

FINE    YOUNG   FOLLY 

L  "'INE  young  Folly  !  though  you  were 
•*•     That  fair  beauty  I  did  swear, 

Yet  you  ne'er  could  reach  my  heart : 
For  we  courtiers  learn  at  school 
Only  with  your  sex  to  fool ; 

You  're  not  worth  the  serious  part. 


IO6  HABINGTON 


When  I  sigh  and  kiss  your  hand, 
Cross  my  arms  and  wondering  stand, 

Holding  parley  with  your  eye  ; 
Then  dilate  on  my  desires, 
Swear  the  sun  ne'er  shot  such  fires  : 

All  is  but  a  handsome  lie. 

When  I  eye  your  curl  or  lace, 
Gentle  Soul !  you  think  your  face 

Straight  some  murder  doth  commit ; 
And  your  virtue  doth  begin 
To  grow  scrupulous  of  my  sin, 

When  I  talk  to  show  my  wit. 

Therefore,  Madam  !  wear  no  cloud, 
Nor  to  check  my  love  grow  proud  : 

For  in  sooth  I  much  do  doubt 
Tis  the  powder  in  your  hair, 
Not  your  breath,  perfumes  the  air ; 

And  your  clothes  that  set  you  out. 

Yet,  though  truth  has  this  confess'd, 
And  I  vow  I  love  in  jest, 

When  I  next  begin  to  court 
And  protest  an  amorous  flame 
You  will  swear  I  earnest  am  : — 
Bedlam  !  this  is  pretty  sport. 


HABINGTON 


THE  PERFECTION   OF  LOVE 

A7~OU  who  are  earth  and  can  not  rise 

Above  your  sense, 

Boasting  the  envied  wealth  which  lies 
Bright  in  your  Mistress'  lips  or  eyes, 
Betray  a  pitied  eloquence. 

That  which  doth  join  our  souls  so  light 

And  quick  doth  move 
That,  like  the  eagle  in  his  flight, 
It  doth  transcend  all  human  sight, 
Lost  in  the  element  of  love. 

You  poets  reach  not  this  who  sing 

The  praise  of  dust, 

But  kneaded,  when  by  theft  you  bring 
The  rose  and  lily  from  the  Spring 
To  adorn  the  wrinkled  face  of  Lust. 

When  we  speak  love,  nor  art  nor  wit 

We  gloss  upon : 
Our  souls  engender,  and  beget 
Ideas, —  which  you  counterfeit 
In  your  dull  propagation. 

While  Time  seven  ages  shall  disperse 

We  '11  talk  of  love  ; 

And  when  our  tongues  hold  no  commerce 
Our  thoughts  shall  mutually  converse, 
And  yet  the  blood  no  rebel  prove. 


io8 


HABINGTON 


And  though  we  be  of  several  kind, 

Fit  for  offence, 
Yet  are  we  so  by  love  refined 
From  impure  dross,  we  are  all  mind  : 
Death  could  not  more  have  conquer'd  sense. 

How  suddenly  those  flames  expire 

Which  scorch  our  clay  ! 
Prometheus-like  when  we  steal  fire 
From  heaven,  'tis  endless  and  entire  ; 
It  may  know  age,  but  not  decay. 


SIR   RICHARD    FANSHAWE 


OF  BEAUTY 

LET  us  use  it  while  we  may 
Snatch  those  joys  that  haste  away  ! 
Earth  her  winter  coat  may  cast, 
And  renew  her  beauty  past : 
But,  our  winter  come,  in  vain 
We  solicit  Spring  again  ; 
And  when  our  furrows  snow  shall  cover 
Love  may  return,  but  never  lover. 


EDMUND    WALLER 


TO  A  FAIR  LADY 

PLAYING    WITH  A   SNAKE 

OTRANGE,  that  such  horror  and  such  grace 
^— '  Should  dwell  together  in  one  place  : 
A  Fury's  arm,  an  Angel's  face  ! 

'Tis  innocence,  and  youth,  which  makes 

In  Chloris'  fancy  such  mistakes  : 

To  start  at  love  and  play  with  snakes. 

By  this  and  by  her  coldness  barr'd, 
Her  servants  have  a  task  too  hard  : 
The  Tyrant  has  a  double  guard. 

Thrice  happy  Snake,  that  in  her  sleeve 
May  boldly  creep  !  we  dare  not  give 
Our  thoughts  so  unconfined  a  leave. 

Contented  in  that  nest  of  snow 
He  lies,  as  he  his  bliss  did  know ; 
And  to  the  wood  no  more  will  go. 

Take  heed,  fair  Eve  !  you  do  not  make 

Another  tempter  of  this  Snake  : 

A  marble  one  so  warm'd  would  speak. 


IIO  WALLER 


TO  MY   YOUNG   LADY  LUCY  SIDNEY 

WHY  came  I  so  untimely  forth 
Into  a  world  which,  wanting  thee, 
Could  entertain  us  with  no  worth 

Or  shadow  of  felicity, 
That  time  should  me  so  far  remove 
From  that  which  I  was  born  to  love  ? 

Yet,  Fairest  Blossom  !  do  not  slight 

That  age  which  you  may  know  so  soon  : 

The  rosy  morn  resigns  her  light 
And  milder  glory  to  the  noon  ; 

And  then  what  wonders  shall  you  do 

Whose  dawning  beauty  warms  us  so  ? 

Hope  waits  upon  the  flowery  prime ; 

And  Summer,  though  it  be  less  gay, 
Yet  is  not  look'd  on  as  a  time 

Of  declination  or  decay  : 
For  with  a  full  hand  that  does  bring 

All  that  was  promised  by  the  Spring. 

/ 

AN  APOLOGY 

FOR  HAVING  LOVED  BEFORE 

HPHEY  that  never  had  the  use 
-L  Of  the  grape's  surprizing  juice 
To  the  first  delicious  cup 
All  their  reason  render  up  : 
Neither  do  nor  care  to  know 
Whether  it  be  best  or  no. 


WALLER  1 1 1 

So  they  that  axe  to  love  inclined, 

Sway'd  by  chance,  not  choice  or  art, 

To  the  first  that 's  fair  or  kind 
Make  a  present  of  their  heart. 

Tis  not  She  that  first  we  love, 

But  whom  dying  we  approve. 

To  man,  that  was  in  the  evening  made, 

Stars  gave  the  first  delight, 
Admiring  in  the  gloomy  shade 

Those  little  drops  of  light ; 
Then  at  Aurora,  whose  fair  hand 

Removed  them  from  the  skies, 
He  gazing  tow'rd  the  East  did  stand, 

She  entertain'd  his  eyes. 

But  when  the  bright  Sun  did  appear 

All  those  he  'gan  despise  ; 
His  wonder  was  determined  there, 

And  could  no  longer  rise  : 
He  neither  might  nor  wish'd  to  know 

A  more  refulgent  light, 
For  that,  as  mine  your  beauties  now, 

Employ'd  his  utmost  sight. 

TO  A  LADY 

WHO   GAVE  HIM  A  LOST  COPY  OP  A  POEM 

"NT OTHING  lies  hid  from  radiant  eyes ; 
•*•  ^  All  they  subdue  become  their  spies  ; 

Secrets,  as  choicest  jewels,  are 

Presented  to  oblige  the  Fair  : 


112  WALLER 

No  wonder  then  that  a  lost  thought 
Should  there  be  found  where  souls  are  caught. 
The  picture  of  fair  Venus  (that 
For  which  men  say  the  Goddess  sat) 
Was  lost,  till  Lely  from  your  look 
Again  that  glorious  image  took. 
If  Virtue's  self  were  lost,  we  might 
From  your  fair  mind  new  copies  write. 
All  things  but  one  you  can  restore  : 
The  heart  you  get  returns  no  more. 

STAY,   PHCEBUS! 

O  TAY,  Phoebus  !  stay  ! 

^— '  The  world  to  which  you  fly  so  fast, 
Conveying  day 

From  us  to  them,  can  pay  your  haste 
With  no  such  object  nor  salute  your  rise 
With  no  such  wonder  as  De  Mornay's  eyes. 

Well  does  this  prove 

The  error  of  those  antique  books 

Which  made  you  move 
About  the  world  :  Her  charming  looks 
Would  fix  your  beams,  and  make  it  ever  day, 
Did  not  the  rolling  earth  snatch  her  away. 


I 


SIR  JOHN    SUCKLING 


A  BALLAD    OF  A    WEDDING 

TELL  thee,  DICK  !  where  I  have  been, 
Where  I  the  rarest  things  have  seen, 

O,  things  beyond  compare  ! 
Such  sights  again  can  not  be  found 
In  any  place  on  English  ground, 

Be  it  at  wake  or  fair. 

At  Charing-Cross,  hard  by  the  way 
Where  we,  thou  know'st,  do  sell  our  hay, 

There  is  a  House  with  stairs ; 
And  there  did  I  see  coming  down 
Such  volk  as  are  not  in  our  town, 

Vorty  at  least,  in  pairs. 

Amongst  the  rest  One  pest'lent  fine, 
His  beard  no  bigger  though  than  thine, 

Walk'd  on  before  the  best : 
Our  Landlord  looks  like  nothing  to  him ; 
The  King,  God  bless  him  !  'twould  undo  him 

Should  he  go  still  so  dress 'd. 

At  course-a-park,  without  all  doubt, 
He  should  have  first  been  taken  out 

By  all  the  maids  i'  the  town, 
Though  lusty  Roger  there  had  been, 


114  SUCKLING 


Or  little  George  upon  the  Green, 
Or  Vincent  of  the  Crown. 

But  wot  you  what  ?  the  Youth  was  going 
To  make  an  end  of  all  his  wooing ; 

The  parson  for  him  stay'd  : 
Yet  by  his  leave,  for  all  his  haste, 
He  did  not  so  much  wish  all  past, 

Perchance,  as  did  the  Maid. 

The  Maid, —  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale, 
For  such  a  Maid  no  Widson  ale 

Could  ever  yet  produce  : 
No  grape  that 's  kindly  ripe  could  be 
So  round,  so  plump,  so  soft  as  she, 

Nor  half  so  full  of  juice. 

Her  finger  was  so  small  the  ring 
Would  not  stay  on  which  he  did  bring, 

It  was  too  wide  a  peck  ; 
And  to  say  truth,  for  out  it  must, 
It  look'd  like  the  great  collar,  just, 

About  our  young  colt's  neck. 

Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat 
Like  little  mice  stole  in  and  out, 

As  if  they  fear'd  the  light ; 
But,  Dick  !  she  dances  such  a  way, 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter  day 

Is  half  so  fine  a  sight. 

He  would  have  kiss'd  her  once  or  twice, 
But  she  would  not,  she  was  so  nice, 


SUCKLING  115 


She  would  not  do  't  in  sight ; 
And  then  she  look'd  as  who  would  say 
I  will  do  what  I  list  to-day, 

And  you  shall  do  't  at  night. 

Her  cheeks  so  rare  a  white  was  on, 
No  daisy  makes  comparison, — 

Who  sees  them  is  undone  : 
For  streaks  of  red  were  mingled  there 
Such  as  are  on  a  Katherine  pear, 

The  side  that 's  next  the  sun. 

Her  lips  were  red,  and  one  was  thin, 
Compared  to  that  was  next  her  chin, — 

Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly  : 
But,  Dick  !  her  eyes  so  guard  her  face, 
I  durst  no  more  upon  them  gaze 
Than  on  the  sun  in  July. 

Her  mouth  so  small,  when  she  does  speak, 
Thou  'dst  swear  her  teeth  her  words  did  break, 

That  they  might  passage  get ; 
But  she  so  handled  still  the  matter, 
They  came  as  good  as  ours,  or  better, 

And  are  not  spent  a  whit. 

If  wishing  should  be  any  sin 

The  parson  himself  had  guilty  been, 

She  look'd  that  day  so  purely ; 
And  did  the  Youth  so  oft  the  feat 
At  night  as  some  did  in  conceit, 

It  would  have  spoil'd  him  surely. 


Il6  SUCKLING 


Passion  o'  me  !  how  I  run  on  : 

There  's  that  that  would  be  thought  upon, 

I  trow,  besides  the  Bride  : 
The  business  of  the  kitchen 's  great, 
For  it  is  fit  that  men  should  eat ; 

Nor  was  it  there  denied. 

Just  in  the  nick  the  cook  knock'd  thrice, 
And  all  the  waiters  in  a  trice 

His  summons  did  obey ; 
Each  serving-man  with  dish  in  hand 
March'd  boldly  up,  like  our  train'd  band, 

Presented,  and  away. 

When  all  the  meat  was  on  the  table 
What  man  of  knife,  or  teeth,  was  able 

To  stay  to  be  intreated  ? 
And  this  the  very  reason  was 
Before  the  parson  could  say  grace 

The  company  was  seated. 

Now  hats  fly  off,  and  youths  carouse  ; 
Healths  first  go  round,  and  then  the  house,- 

The  Bride's  came  thick  and  thick  ; 
And  when  'twas  named  another's  health, 
Perhaps  he  made  it  her's  by  stealth : 

And  who  could  help  it?  Dick  ! 

O'  the  sudden  up  they  rise  and  dance ; 
Then  sit  again,  and  sigh,  and  glance ; 

Then  dance  again  and  kiss  : 
Thus  several  ways  the  time  did  pass, 


SUCKLING 


Whilst  every  woman  wish'd  her  place, 
And  every  man  wish'd  his. 

By  this  time  all  were  stolen  aside 
To  counsel  and  undress  the  Bride, 

But  that  he  must  not  know  : 
But  it  was  thought  he  guess'd  her  mind, 
And  did  not  mean  to  stay  behind 

Above  an  hour  or  so. 

When  in  he  came,  Dick  !  there  she  lay 
Like  new-falPn  snow  melting  away, — 

'Twas  time.  I  trow,  to  part : 
Kisses  were  now  the  only  stay, 
Which  soon  she  gave,  as  who  would  say 

God  b'  w'  y'  !  with  all  my  heart. 

But  just  as  heavens  would  have  to  cross  it 
In  came  the  bridemaids  with  the  posset ; 

The  Bridegroom  eat  in  spite  : 
For  had  he  left  the  women  to  't, 
It  would  have  cost  two  hours  to  do  't, 

Which  were  too  much  that  night. 

At  length  the  candle  's  out,  and  now 
All  that  they  had  not  done  they  do  : 

What  that  is  who  can  tell? 
But  I  believe  it  was  no  more 
Than  thou  and  I  have  done  before 

With  Bridget  and  with  Nell. 


Il8  SUCKLING 


LOVING  AMISS 

TTONEST  LOVER  whosoever! 
*   *   If  in  all  thy  love  there  ever 
Was  one  wavering  thought,  thy  flame 
Were  not  still  even,  still  the  same, 
Know  this  : 
Thou  lovest  amiss 
And,  to  love  true, 
Thou  must  begin  again  and  love  anew. 

If  when  She  appears  i'  the  room 
Thou  dost  not  quake  and  art  struck  dumb, 
And  in  striving  this  to  cover 
Dost  not  speak  thy  words  twice  over, 

Know  this  : 

Thou  lovest  amiss 
And,  to  love  true, 
Thou  must  begin  again  and  love  anew. 

If  fondly  thou  dost  not  mistake 
And  all  defects  for  graces  take, 
Persuade  thyself  that  jests  are  broken 
When  she  hath  little  or  nought  spoken, 

Know  this  : 

Thou  lovest  amiss 
And,  to  love  true, 
Thou  must  begin  again  and  love  anew. 

If  when  thou  appear'st  to  be  within 
Thou  lett'st  not  men  ask  and  ask  again, 


SUCKLING  119 


And  when  thou  answerest,  if  it  be 
To  what  was  ask'd  thee  properly, 

Know  this  : 

Thou  lovest  amiss 
And,  to  love  true, 
Thou  must  begin  again  and  love  anew. 

If  when  thy  stomach  calls  to  eat 
Thou  cutt'st  not  fingers  'stead  of  meat 
And,  with  much  gazing  on  her  face, 
Dost  not  rise  hungry  from  thy  place, 

Know  this  : 

Thou  lovest  amiss 
And,  to  love  true, 
Thou  must  begin  again  and  love  anew. 

If  by  this  thou  dost  discover 
That  thou  art  no  perfecl;  lover 
And,  desiring  to  love  true, 
Thou  dost  begin  to  love  anew, 

Know  this  : 

Thou  lovest  amiss 
And,  to  love  true, 
Thou  must  begin  again  and  love  anew. 


A 


A   HEALTH 

HEALTH  to  the  nut-brown  Lass 
With  the  hazel  eyes  !     Let  it  pass 

She  that  hath  good  eyes 
Is  a  prize. 

Let  it  pass  !  let  it  pass  ! 


I2O  SUCKLING 


As  much  to  the  lively  grey : 
As  good  i'  the  night  as  day  ! 

She  that  hath  good  eyes, 

Fair  and  wise 

Drink  away  !  drink  away  ! 

I  pledge,  I  pledge  :  what,  ho  !  some  wine  ! 

Here  's  to  thine and  to  thine 

The  colours  are  divine  : 
But  O,  to  the  black  !  the  black  !  * 
Give  me  as  much  again,  and  let  it  be  sack  ! 
She  that  hath  black  eyes 

Hath  Love's  guise 

And,  it  may  be,  a  better  knack. 

BARLEY-BREAK 

LOVE,  Reason,  Hate,  did  once  bespeak 
Three  mates  to  play  at  barley-break. 
Love  Folly  took,  and  Reason  Fancy, 
And  Hate  consorts  with  Pride  :  so  dance  they. 
Love  coupled  last :  and  so  it  fell 
That  Love  and  Folly  were  in  Hell. 

They  break,  and  Love  would  Reason  meet, 
But  Hate  was  nimble  on  her  feet ; 
Fancy  looks  for  Pride  and  thither 
Hies,  and  they  two  hug  together  : 
Yet  this  new  coupling  still  doth  tell 
That  Love  and  Folly  were  in  Hell. 

The  rest  do  break  again,  and  Pride 
Hath  now  got  Reason  on  her  side  ; 


SUCKLING 


121 


Hate  and  Fancy  meet,  and  stand 
Untouch'd  by  Love  in  Folly's  hand  : 
Folly  was  dull,  though  Love  ran  well 
So  Love  and  Folly  were  in  Hell. 


THOMAS   NABBES 


HER  REAL    WORTH 

WHAT  though  with  figures  I  should  raise 
Above  all  height  my  Mistress'  praise, 
Calling  her  cheek  a  blushing  rose, 
The  fairest  June  did  e'er  disclose, 
Her  forehead  lilies,  and  her  eyes 
The  luminaries  of  the  skies  ; 
That  on  her  lips  ambrosia  grows, 
And  from  her  kisses  nectar  flows  ? 
Too  great  hyperboles  !  unless 
She  loves  me  she  is  none  of  these. 
But  if  her  heart  and  her  desires 
Do  answer  mine  with  equal  fires, 
These  attributes  are  then  too  poor  : 
She  is  all  these,  and  ten  times  more. 


JOSEPH   RUTTER 


SONG    OF   VENUS 

/"^OME,  Lovely  Boy  !  unto  my  court, 
^•^  And  leave  these  uncouth  woods  and  all 

That  feed  thy  fancy  with  love's  gall 
But  keep  away  the  honey  and  the  sport ! 
CHORUS  OF  GRACES  —  Come  unto  me  ! 

And  with  variety 
Thou  shalt  be  fed :  which  Nature  loves,  and  I. 

There  is  no  music  in  a  voice 

That  is  but  one,  and  still  the  same  : 
Inconstancy  is  but  a  name 

To  fright  poor  lovers  from  a  better  choice. 
CHORUS  —  Come  then  to  me  ! 

Orpheus  that  on  Eurydice 

Spent  all  his  love,  on  others  scorn, 
Now  on  the  banks  of  Hebrus  torn  • 

Finds  the  reward  of  foolish  constancy. 

CHORUS  —  Come  then  to  me  ! 

And  sigh  no  more  for  one  love  lost ! 
I  have  a  thousand  Cupids  here 
Shall  recompense  with  better  cheer 

Thy  misspent  labours  and  thy  bitter  cost. 
CHORUS  —  Come  then  to  me  ! 


RUTTER  123 


MARRIAGE  HYMN 

IT  YMEN  !  God  of  marriage  bed  ! 

•*••*•  Be  thou  ever  honoured  : 
Thou  whose  torch's  purer  light 
Death's  sad  tapers  did  affright, 
And  instead  of  funeral  fires 
Kindled  lovers'  chaste  desires  : 
May  their  love 
Ever  prove 

True  and  constant ;  let  not  age 
Know  their  youthful  heat  to  assuage  ! 

Maids  !  prepare  the  genial  bed  : 
Then  come,  Night !  and  hide  that  red 
Which  from  her  cheeks  his  heart  does  burn, 
Till  the  envious  Day  return 
And  the  lusty  bridegroom  say 
—  I  have  chased  her  fears  away, 

And  instead 

Of  virginhed 

Given  her  a  greater  good, 
Perfection  and  womanhood. 


RICHARD    CRASHAW 


WISHES 

TO  HIS  SUPPOSED  MISTRESS 

WHOE'ER  she  be 
That  not  impossible  She 
That  shall  command  my  heart  and  me ; 

Where'er  she  lie, 
Lock'd  up  from  mortal  eye, 
In  shady  leaves  of  destiny : 

Till  that  ripe  Birth 
Of  studied  Fate  stand  forth 
And  teach  her  fair  steps  tread  our  earth ; 

Till  that  Divine 
Idea  take  a  shrine 
Of  crystal  flesh,  through  which  to  shine  : 

Meet  her,  my  Wishes  ! 
Bespeak  her  to  my  blisses, 
And  be  you  call'd  my  absent  kisses.  — 

I  wish  her  beauty 
That  owes  not  all  its  duty 
To  gaudy  tire  or  glistering  shoe-tye, — 

Something  more  than 
Taffeta  or  tissue  can, 
Or  rampant  feather  or  rich  fan, — 


CRASHAW  125 


More  than  the  spoil 
Of  shop,  or  silkworm's  toil, 
Or  a  bought  blush,  or  a  set  smjle  ; 

A  face  that 's  best 
By  its  own  beauty  dress'd, 
And  can  alone  commend  the  rest, — 

A  face  made  up 
Out  of  no  other  shop 
Than  what  Nature's  white  hand  sets  ope  ; 

A  cheek  where  youth 
And  blood,  with  pen  of  truth 
Write  what  their  reader  sweetly  ru'th, — 

A  cheek  where  grows 
More  than  a  morning  rose, 
Which  to  no  box  its  being  owes  ; 

Lips  where  all  day 
A  lover's  kiss  may  play, 
Yet  carry  nothing  thence  away ; 

Looks  that  oppress 
Their  richest  tires,  but  dress 
Themselves  in  simple  nakedness ; 

Eyes  that  displace 

The  neighbour  diamond  and  outface 
That  sun-shine  by  their  own  sweet  grace  ; 

Tresses  that  wear 
Jewels,  but  to  declare 
How  much  themselves  more  precious  are, — 


126  CRASH  AW 


Whose  native  ray 
Can  tame  the  wanton  day 
Of  gems  that  in  their  bright  shades  play,- 

Each  ruby  there 
Or  pearl  that  dare  appear, 
Be  its  own  blush,  be  its  own  tear ; 

A  well-tamed  heart, 
For  whose  more  noble  smart 
Love  may  be  long  choosing  a  dart ; 

Eyes  that  bestow 
Full  quivers  on  Love's  bow, 
Yet  pay  less  arrows  than  they  owe  ; 

Smiles  that  can  warm 
The  blood,  yet  teach  a  charm 
That  chastity  shall  take  no  harm  ; 

Blushes  that  been 
The  burnish  of  no  sin, 
Nor  flames  of  aught  too  hot  within  ; 

Joys  that  confess 
Virtue  for  their  Mistress, 
And  have  no  other  head  to  dress ; 

Fears  fond,  and  flight, 
As  the  coy  bride's  when  night 
First  does  the  longing  lover  right ; 

Tears  quickly  fled 
And  vain,  as  those  are  shed 
For  dying  maidenhed ; 


CRASHAW  127 

Days  that  need  borrow 
No  part  of  their  good  morrow 
From  a  fore-spent  night  of  sorrow, — 

Days  that,  in  spite 
Of  darkness,  by  the  light 
Of  a  clear  mind  are  day  all  night ; 

Nights  sweet  as  they 
Made  short  by  lovers'  play, 
Yet  long  by  the  absence  of  the  day ; 

Life  that  dares  send 
A  challenge  to  his  end, 
And  when  it  comes  say  —  Welcome,  friend ; 

Sidneian  showers 

Of  sweet  discourse,  whose  powers 
Can  crown  old  Winter's  head  with  flowers ; 

Soft  silken  hours, 
Open  suns,  shady  bowers ; 
'Bove  all,  nothing  within  that  lours ; 

Whate'er  delight 
Can  make  Day's  forehead  bright 
Or  give  down  to  the  wings  of  Night. 

In  her  whole  frame 
Have  Nature  all  the  name, 
Art  and  Ornament  the  shame  ! 

Her  flattery 
Picture  and  poesy, 
Her  counsel  her  own  virtue  be  ! 


128  CRASHAW 


I  wish  her  store 
Of  worth  may  leave  her  poor 
Of  wishes  ;  and  I  wish no  more. 

Now,  if  Time  knows 
That  Her  whose  radiant  brows 
Weave  them  a  garland  of  my  vows, 

Her  whose  just  bays 
My  future  hopes  can  raise 
A  trophy  to  her  present  praise, 

Her  that  dares  be 
What  these  lines  wish  to  see, 
I  seek  no  further it  is  She. 

'Tis  She  :  and  here 
Lo  I  unclothe  and  clear 
My  Wishes'  cloudy  character. 

May  She  enjoy  it 
Whose  merit  dares  apply  it 
But  modesty  dares  still  deny  it ! 

Such  Worth  as  this  is 
Shall  fix  my  flying  wishes, 
And  determine  them  to  kisses. 

Let  her  full  glory, 
My  fancies  !  fly  before  ye  ! 
Be  you  my  fictions,  but  Her  Story  ! 


RICHARD   LOVELACE 


THE    GRASSHOPPER 

To  my  noble  friend  — Mr.  Charles  Cotton  • 

OTHOU  that  swing'st  upon  the  waving  ear 
Of  some  well-filled  oaten  beard, 
Drunk  every  night  with  a  delicious  tear 

Dropp'd  thee  from  heaven,  where  thou  wast  rear'd  ! 

The  joys  of  earth  and  air  are  thine  entire, 

That  with  thy  feet  and  wings  dost  hop  and  fly ; 

And  when  thy  poppy  works,  thou  dost  retire 
To  thy  carved  acorn-bed  to  lie. 

Up  with  the  day,  the  sun  thou  welcomest  then, 
Sport'st  in  the  gilt  plaits  of  his  beams  ; 

And  all  these  merry  days  makest  merry  men, 
Thyself,  and  melancholy  streams. 

But,  ah  !  the  sickle  !  golden  ears  are  cropp'd, 

Ceres  and  Bacchus  bid  good-night, 
Sharp  frosty  fingers  all  your  flowers  have  topp'd, 

And  what  scythes  spared  winds  shave  off  quite. 

Poor  verdant  fool,  and  now  green  ice  !  thy  joys 
(Large  and  as  lasting  as  thy  perch  of  grass) 

Bid  us  lay  in  'gainst  winter  rains,  and  poise 
Their  floods  with  an  o'erflowing  glass. 


1 3O  LOVELACE 

Thou  best  of  men  and  friends  !  we  will  create, 
A  genuine  summer  in  each  other's  breast 

And,  spite  of  this  cold  time  and  frozen  fate, 
Thaw  us  a  warm  seat  to  our  rest. 

Our  sacred  hearths  shall  burn  eternally, 
As  Vestal  flames ;  the  North- Wind,  he 

Shall  strike  his  frost^stretch'd  wings,  dissolve,  and  fly 
This  ^Etna  in  epitome. 

Dropping  December  shall  come  weeping  in, 

Bewail  the  usurping  of  his  reign ; 
But,  when  in  showers  of  old  Greek  we  begin, 

Shall  cry  he  hath  his  crown  again. 

Night,  as  clear  Hesper,  shall  our  tapers  whip 
From  the  light  casements  where  we  play, 

And  the  dark  hag  from  her  black  mantle  strip, 
And  stick  there  everlasting  day. 

Thus  richer  than  untempted  kings  are  we 

That,  asking  nothing,  nothing  need. 
Though  lord  of  all  that  seas  embrace,  yet  he 

That  wants  himself  is  poor  indeed. 


SIR   EDWARD    SHERBURNE 


THE  HEART-MAGNET 

OHALL  I,  hopeless,  then  pursue 
^-J  A  fair  shadow  that  still  flies  me  ? 

Shall  I  still  adore  and  woo 

A  proud  heart  that  does  despise  me  ? 

I  a  constant  love  may  so, 

But,  alas  !  a  fruitless  show. 

Shall  I  by  the  erring  light 
Of  two  crossing  stars  still  sail, 

That  do  shine,  but  shine  in  spite, 
Not  to  guide  but  make  me  fail  ? 

I  a  wandering  course  may  steer, 

But  the  harbour  ne'er  come  near. 

Whilst  these  thoughts  my  soul  possess 
Reason  passion  would  o'ersway, 

Bidding  me  my  flames  suppress 
Or  divert  some  other  way : 

But  what  reason  would  pursue, . 

That  my  heart  runs  counter  to. 

So  a  pilot,  bent  to  make 

Search  for  some  unfound-out  land, 


132  SHERBURNE 


Does  with  him  the  magnet  take, 

Sailing  to  the  unknown  strand  : 
But  that,  steer  which  way  he  will, 
To  the  loved  North  points  still. 


T    ATELY,  by  clear  Thames,  his  side, 

J — '       Fair  Lycoris  I  espied, 
With  the  pen  of  her  white  hand 
These  words  printing  on  the  sand  : 
None  Lycoris  doth  approve 
But  Mirtillo  for  her  lore, 

Ah,  false  Nymph  !  those  words  were  fit 
In  sand  only  to  be  writ : 
For  the  quickly  rising  streams  ^~-\ 

Of  Oblivion  and  the  Thames 
In  a  little  moment's  stay 
From  the  shore  wash'd  clean  away 
What  thy  hand  had  there  impress'd, 
And  Mirtillo  from  thy  breast. 


ANDREW   MARVELL 


THE  PICTURE   OF  LITTLE   T.  C. 

In.  a  prospect  of  flowers. 

O  EE  !  with  what  simplicity 
w— '     This  Nymph  begins  her  golden  days. 
In  the  green  grass  she  loves  to  lie, 
And  there  with  her  fair  aspec"l  tames 
The  wilder  flowers,  and  gives  them  names  ; 
But  only  with  the  roses  plays, 
And  them  does  tell 
What  colour  best  becomes  them,  and  what  smell. 

Who  can  foretell  for  what  high  cause 

This  Darling  of  the  Gods  was  born  ? 
Yet  this  is  She  whose  chaster  laws 
The  wanton  Love  shall  one  day  fear, 
And,  under  her  command  severe, 
See  his  bow  broke  and  ensigns  torn. 

Happy  who  can 
Appease  this  virtuous  enemy  of  man  ! 

O  then  let  me  in  time  compound ; 

And  parley  with  those  conquering  eyes 
Ere  they  have  tried  their  force  to  wound, 
Ere  with  their  glancing  wheels  they  drive 


134  MARVELL 


In  triumph  over  hearts  that  strive, 

And  them  that  yield  but  more  despise  ! 

Let  me  be  laid 
Where  I  may  see  the  glories  from  some  shade  ! 

Meantime,  whilst  every  verdant  thing 

Itself  does  at  thy  beauty  charm, 
Reform  the  errors  of  the  Spring  ! 
Make  that  the  tulips  may  have  share 
Of  sweetness,  seeing  they  are  fair  ; 

And  roses  of  their  thorns  disarm  ; 

But  most  procure 
That  violets  may  a  longer  age  endure  ! 

But  O,  Young  Beauty  of  the  Woods  ! 

Whom  Nature  courts  with  fruits  and  flowers, 
Gather  the  flowers,  but  spare  the  buds  ! 
Lest  Flora,  angry  at  thy  crime 
—  To  kill  her  infants  in  their  prime, 

Should  quickly  make  the  example  yours  ; 

And,  ere  we  see, 
Nip  in  the  blossom  all  our  hopes  in  thee. 


A   DEFINITION  OF  LOVE 


M 


Y  LOVE  is  of  a  birth  as  rare 

As  'tis  for  object  strange  and  high 
It  was  begotten  by  Despair 
Upon  Impossibility. 


Magnanimous  Despair  alone 
Could  show  me  so  divine  a  thing, 


MARVELL  135 


Where  feeble  Hope  could  ne'er  have  flown 
But  vainly  flapp'd  its  tinsel  wing. 

And  yet  I  quickly  might  arrive 
Where  my  extended  soul  is  fix'd  : 

But  Fate  does  iron  wedges  drive, 
And  always  crowds  itself  betwixt. 

For  Fate  with  jealous  eye  doth  see 

Two  perfe<5t  loves,  nor  lets  them  close  : 

Their  union  would  her  ruin  be 
And  her  tyrannic  power  depose. 

And  therefore  her  decrees  of  steel 

Us  as  the  distant  poles  have  placed  — 

Though  Love's  whole  world  on  us  doth  wheel, 
Not  by  themselves  to  be  embraced  : 

Unless  the  giddy  heaven  fall 

And  earth  some  new  convulsion  tear, 

And,  us  to  join,  the  world  should  all 
Be  cramp'd  into  a  planisphere. 

As  lines,  so  loves  oblique  may  well 
Themselves  in  every  angle  greet : 

But  ours,  so  truly  parallel, 

Though  infinite  can  never  meet. 

Therefore  the  love  which  us  doth  bind, 

But  Fate  so  enviously  debars, 
Is  the  conjunction  of  the  mind 

And  opposition  of  the  stars. 


136  MARVELL 


D 


CLORINDA   AND   DAMON 

CLORINDA 

AMON  !  come  drive  thy  flocks  this  way  ! 

DAMON 
No  !     'Tis  too  late  they  went  astray. 

CLORINDA  -v  ^ 

I  have  a  grassy  'scutcheon  spied,  ^v 

Where  Flora  blazons  ajl  her  pride  : 
The  grass  I  aim  to  feast  thy  sheep, 
The  flowers  I  for  thy  temples  keep. 

DAMON 
Grass  withers  and  the  flowers  too  fade. 

CLORINDA 

Seize  the  short  joys  then  ere  they  vade  ! 
Seest  thou  that  unfrequented  cave  ? 

DAMON 

That  den? 

CLORINDA 

Love's  shrine. 


,„  DAMON 

But  virtue's  grave. 
tfr 

CLORINDA 

In  whose  cool  bosom  we  may  lie, 
Safe  from  the  sun. 

DAMON 

Not  heaven's  eye. 


MARVELL  137 

CLORINDA  -^f 

Near  this  a  fountain's  liquid  bell  ^ 

Tinkles  within  the  concave  shell. 

V 

DAMON 

Might  a  soul  bathe  there  and  be  clean, 
Or  slake  its  drought? 

CLORINDA 
^/  ^  What  is  't  you  mean? 

DAMON 

Clorinda  !  pastures,  caves,  and  springs, — 
These  once  had  been  enticing  things. 

CLORINDA 
And  what  late  change  ? 

DAMON 

The  other  day 
Pan  met  me. 

CLORINDA 
What  did  great  Pan  say  ? 

DAMON 

Words  that  transcend  poor  shepherd's  skill ; 
But  he  e'er  since  my  songs  does  fill, 
And  his  name  swells  my  slender  oat. 

CLORINDA 
Sweet  must  Pan  sound  in  Damon's  note. 

DAMON 
Clorinda's  voice  might  make  it  sweet. 


138  MARVELL 


CLORINDA 

Who  would  not  in  Pan's  praises  meet  ? 

CHORUS 

Of  Pan  the  flowery  pastures  sing  ! 
Caves  echo,  and  the  fountains  ring. 
Sing  then  while  he  doth  us  inspire  ! 
For  all  the  world  is  our  Pan's  quire. 

THE  FAIR   SINGER 

r  I  ^O  make  a  final  conquest  of  all  me 
•*•    Love  did  compose  so  sweet  an  enemy, 
In  whom  both  beauties  to  my  death  agree, ' 

Joining  themselves  in  fatal  harmony : 
That  while  she  with  her  eyes  my  heart  doth  bind 
She  with  her  voice  might  captivate  my  mind. 

I  could  have  fled  from  One  but  singly  fair. — 
My  disentangled  soul  itself  might  save, 

Breaking  the  curled  trammels  of  her  hair : 
But  how  should  I  avoid  to  be  her  slave, 

Whose  subtle  art  invisibly  can  wreathe 

My  fetters  of  the  very  air  I  breathe  ? 

It  had  been  easy  fighting  in  some  plain 
Where  victory  might  hang  in  equal  choice, 

But  all  resistance  against  her  is  vain 

Who  has  the  advantage  both  of  eyes  and  voice 

And  all  my  forces  needs  must  be  undone, 

She  having  gained  both  the  wind  and  sun. 


MARVELL  1 39 


MAKING  HAY-ROPES 

AMETAS 

THOU  that  this  love  can  stand, 
Whilst  thou  still  dost  say  me  Nay? 
Love  unpaid  does  soon  disband  : 
Love  binds  love,  as  hay  binds  hay. 

THESTYLIS 

Think'st  thou  that  this  rope  would  twine 
If  we  both  should  turn  one  way  ? 

Where  both  parties  so  combine 
Neither  love  will  twist  nor  hay. 

AMETAS 

Thus  you  vain  excuses  find, 
Which  yourself  and  us  delay  : 

And  love  ties  a  woman's  mind 
Looser  than  with  ropes  of  hay. 

THESTYLIS 

What  you  can  not  constant  hope 
Must  be  taken  as  you  may. 

AMETAS 

Then  let 's  both  lay  by  our  rope, 
And  go  kiss  within  the  hay  ! 


ALEXANDER   BROME 


PALINODE 

NO  MORE,  no  rnore  of  this,  I  vow  ! 
'Tis  time  to  leave  this  fooling  now, 
Which  few  but  fools  call  wit. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  begun, 
And  now  'tis  time  I  should  have  done 

And  meddle  no  more  with  it : 
He  physic's  use  doth  quite  mistake, 
Who  physic  takes  for  physic's  sake. 

My  heat  of  youth,  and  love,  and  pride, 
Did  swell  me  with  their  strong  spring-tide, 

Inspired  my  brain  and  blood  ; 
And  made  me  then  converse  with  toys 
Which  are  call'd  Muses  by  the  boys, 

And  dabble  in  their  flood. 
I  was  persuaded  in  those  days 
There  was  no  crown  like  love  and  bays. 

But  now  my  youth  and  pride  are  gone, 
And  age  and  cares  come  creeping  on, 

And  business  checks  my  love  : 
What  need  I  take  a  needless  toil 
To  spend  my  labour,  time,  and  oil, 

Since  no  design  can  move? 
For  now  the  cause  is  ta'en  away 
What  reason  is  't  the  effecT:  should  stay? 


BROME  141 

'Tis  but  a  folly  now  for  me 

To  spend  my  time  and  industry 

About  such  useless'wit : 
For  when  I  think  I  have  done  well, 
I  see  men  laugh,  but  can  not  tell 

Where  't  be  at  me  or  it. 
Great  madness  'tis  to  be  a  drudge, 
When  those  that  can  not  write  dare  judge. 

Besides  the  danger  that  ensu'th 

To  him  that  speaks  or  writes  the  truth, 

The  premium  is  so  small : 
To  be  call'd  Poet  and  wear  bays, 
And  factor  turn  of  songs  and  plays, — 

This  is  no  wit  at  all. 
Wit  only  good  to  sport  and  sing 
Is  a  needless  and  an  endless  thing. 

Give  me  the  wit  that  can't  speak  sense, 
Nor  read  it  but  in 's  own  defence, 

Ne'er  learn'd  but  of  his  Gran'am  ! 
He  that  can  buy  and  sell  and  cheat 
May  quickly  make  a  shift  to  get 

His  thousand  pound  per  annum  ; 
And  purchase  without  more  ado 
The  poems,  and  the  poet  too. 


RICHARD    BROME 


BEGGARS'   SONG 

!    COME  AWAY  !  the  Spring, 
^-'By  every  bird  that  can  but  sing 
Or  chirp  a  note,  doth  now  invite 
Us  forth  to  taste  of  his  delight, 
In  field,  in  grove,  on  hill,  in  dale ; 
But  above  all  the  nightingale, 
Who  in  her  sweetness  strives  to  outdo 
The  loudness  of  the  hoarse  cuckoo. 

Cuckoo  !  cries  he  ;  jug,  jug,  jug  !  sings  she  : 
From  bush  to  bush,  from  tree  to  tree. 
Why  in  one  place  then  tarry  we? 

Come  away  !     Why  do  we  stay  ? 

We  have  no  debt  or  rent  to  pay ; 

No  bargains  or  accompts  to  make ; 

Nor  land  nor  lease,  to  let  or  take. 

Or  if  we  had,  should  that  remore  us 
.      When  all  the  world 's  our  own  before  us, 
**     And  where  we  pass  and  make  resort 

It  is  our  kingdom  and  our  court. 

Cuckoo  !  cries  he ;  jug,  jug,  jug  !  sings  she  : 
From  bush  to  bush,  from  tree  to  tree. 
Why  in  one  place  then  tarry  we  ? 


HENRY   VAUGHAN 


EPITHALAMIUM 

TO  THE  BEST  AND  MOST  ACCOMPLISHED  COUPLE  — 

T3  LESSINGS  as  rich  and  fragrant  crown  your  heads 
•"— '      As  the  mild  heaven  on  roses  sheds 

When  at  their  cheeks  like  pearls  they  wear 
The  clouds  that  court  them  in  a  tear  ! 
And  may  they  be  fed  from  above 
By  Him  which  first  ordain'd  your  love  ! 

Fresh  as  the  Hours  may  all  your  pleasures  be, 
And  healthful  as  Eternity  ! 
Sweet  as  the  flowers'  first  breath,  and  close 
As  the  unseen  spreadings  of  the  Rose 
When  she  unfolds  her  curtain'd  head 
And  makes  her  bosom  the  Sun's  bed  ! 

Soft  as  yourselves  run  your  whole  lives,  and  clear 
As  your  own  glass,  or  what  shines  there  ! 
Smooth  as  Heaven's  face,  and  bright  as  he 
When  without  mask  or  tiffany, 
In  all  your  time  not  one  jar  meet, — 
But  peace  as  silent  as  his  feet ! 

Like  the  Day's  warmth  may  all  your  comforts  be, 
Untoil'd  for  and  serene  as  he, 


144  VAUGHAN 

Yet  free  and  full  as  is  that  sheaf 

Of  sunbeams  gilding  every  leaf 

When  now  the  tyrant  heat  expires 

And  his  cool'd  locks  breathe  milder  fires  ! 

And  as  the  parcel'd  glories  he  doth  shed 
Are  the  fair  issues  of  his  head, 
Which,  ne'er  so  distant,  are  soon  known 
By  the  heat  and  lustre  for  his  own, 
So  may  each  branch  of  yours  we  see 
Your  copies  and  our  wonders  be  ! 

And  when  no  more  on  earth  you  may  remain, 
Invited  hence  to  heaven  again, 
Then  may  your  virtuous  virgin-flames 
Shine  in  those  heirs  of  your  fair  names, 
And  teach  the  world  that  mystery  — 
Yourselves  in  your  posterity  ! 

So  you  to  both  worlds  shall  rich  presents  bring ; 
And,  gather'd  up  to  heaven,  leave  here  a  Spring. 


THOMAS   STANLEY 


I 


SONG 

PRITHEE  Jet  my  heart  alone  ! 

Since  now  'tis  raised  above  thee, 
Not  all  the  beauty  thou  dost  own 
Again  can  make  me  love  thee. 

He  that  was  shipwreck'd  once  before 

By  such  a  Syren's  call, 
And  yet  neglects  to  shun  that  shore, 

Deserves  his  second  fall. 

Each  flattering  kiss,  each  tempting  smile, 

Thou  dost  in  vain  bestow, 
Some  other  lovers  might  beguile 

Who  not  thy  falsehood  know. 

But  I  am  proof  against  all  art : 
No  vows  shall  e'er  persuade  me 

Twice  to  present  a  wounded  heart 
To  her  that  hath  betray 'd  me. 

Could  I  again  be  brought  to  love 
Thy  form,  though  more  divine, 

I  might  thy  scorn  as  justly  move 
As  now  thou  sufferest  mine. 


146  STANLEY 


.    NIGHT 

/^HARISSA  —  What  if  Night 

V*'      Should  betray  us,  and  reveal 

To  the  light 
All  the  pleasures  that  we  steal  ? 


PHILOCHARIS  —  Fairest !  we 

Safely  may  this  fear  despise  : 

How  can  She 
See  our  actions,  who  wants  eyes? 

CHARISSA  —  Each  dim  star, 

And  the  clearer  lights,  we  know, 

Night's  eyes  are  : 
They  were  blind  that  thought  her  so. 

PHILOCHARIS  —  Those  pale  fires 
Only  burn  to  yield  a  light 

To  our  desires ; 
And,  though  blind,  to  give  us  sight. 

CHARISSA  —  By  this  shade, 

That  surrounds  us,  might  our  flame 

Be  betray'd, 
And  the  day  disclose  its  name. 

PHILOCHARIS  —  Dearest  Fair  ! 
These  dark  witnesses  we  find 

Silent  are  : 
Night  is  dumb  as  well  as  blind. 


STANLEY 


KISS  I  BEGG'D,  and  thou  didst  join 

Thy  lips  to  mine ; 
Then,  as  afraid,  snatch  back  their  treasure 

And  mock  my  pleasure. 
Again  !  my  Dearest !  —  for  in  this 
Thou  only  gavest  desire,  and  not  a  kiss. 


JOHN    HALL 


EPITAPH 

On  a  Gentleman  and  his   Wife  who  died  both  within 
a  very  few  days. 

r  J  AHRICE  happy  pair  !  who  had  and  have 
*»•  Living  one  bed,  now  dead  one  grave  : 
Whose  love  being  equal,  neither  could 
A  life  unequal  wish  to  hold ; 
But  left  a  question,  whether  one 
Did  follow  'cause  her  mate  was  gone, 
Or  the  other  went  before  to  stay 
Till  that  his  fellow  came  away  : 
So  that  one  pious  tear  now  must 
Besprinkle  either  parent's  dust, 
And  two  great  sorrows  jointly  run 
And  close  into  a  larger  one, 
Or  rather  turn  to  joy,  to  see 
The  burial  but  the  wedding  be. 


R.   FLETCHER 


AN  EPITAPH 

ON  HIS  DECEASED  FRIEND. 

IT  ERE  LIES  the  ruin'd  Cabinet 
•*••••  Of  a  rich  Soul  more  highly  set : 

The  dross  and  refuse  of  a  Mind 

Too  glorious  to  be  here  confined. 

Earth  for  a  while  bespoke  his  stay,     . 

Only  to  bait,  and  so  away  :  " 

So  that  what  here  he  doated  on 

Was  merely  accommodation. 

Not  that  his  active  soul  could  be 

At  home  but  in  eternity, 

Yet,  while  he  bless'd  us  with  the  rays 

Of  his  short-continued  days, 

Each  minute  had  its  weight  of  worth, 

Each  pregnant  hour  some  star  brought  forth. 

So,  while  he  travel'd  here  beneath, 

He  lived  when  others  only  breathe : 

For  not  a  sand  of  time  slipp'd  by 

Without  its  action  sweet  as  high. 

So  good,  so  peaceable,  so  bless'd, — 

Angels  alone  can  speak  the  rest. 


RICHARD    FLECKNOE 


CHLORIS 

/^HLORIS  !  if  ere  May  be  done 
^-^  You  but  offer  to  be  gone, 

Flowers  will  wither,  green  will  fade, 

Nothing  fresh  nor  gay  be  had. 

Farewell  pleasure  !  farewell  Spring  ! 

Farewell  every  sweeter  thing  ! 

The  Year  will  pine  away  and  mourn, 

And  Winter  instantly  return. 

But,  if  you  vouchsafe  to  stay 
Only  till  the  end  of  May, 
Take  it  upon  Flora's  word, 
Never  sweeter  Spring  was  tow.'rd, 
Never  was  Favonian  wind 
More  propitiously  inclined, 
Never  was  in  heaven  nor  earth 
Promised  more  profuser  mirth. 

Such  sweet  force  your  presence  has 
To  bring  a  joy  to  every  place  ; 
Such  a  virtue  has  your  sight, 
All  are  cheer'd  and  gladded  by  't ; 
Such  a  freshness  as  does  bring 
Along  with  it  perpetual  Spring ; 
Such  a  gaiety  the  while, 
As  makes  both  heaven  and  earth  to  smile. 


JOHN    BULTEEL 


I 


SONG 

GRANT  your  eyes  are  far  more  bright 
Than  ever  was  unclouded  light ; 
And  that  love  in  your  charming  voice 
As  much  of  reason  finds  for  choice  : 
Yet  if  you  hate  when  I  adore, 
To  do  the  like  I  find  much  more. 

A  voice  would  move  all  but  a  stone 
Without  kind  love  shall  find  me  one ; 
And  eyes  the  brightest  ever  shined 
On  me  have  power  but  as  they  're  kind  : 
You  must,  to  throw  down  all  defence, 
As  much  my  reason  please  as  sense. 

I  clearly  know,  say  what  you  will, 
To  read  my  heart  you  want  the  skill ; 
And  of  this  'tis  a  pregnant  sign, 
Since  you  see  not  these  truths  of  mine  : 
Which  if  you  did,  you  would  despair, 
Without  you  loved,  to  form  one  there. 


PART  II— AUTHORS    UNKNOWN 


FROM   TOTTEL'S   MISCELLANY 


THE  MEAN  ESTATE  HAPPIEST 


I 


F  right  be  rackt  and  over-run, 
And  power  take  part  with  open  wrong, 
If  fear  by  force  do  yield  too  soon  : 
The  lack  is  like  to  last  too  long. 

If  God  for  goods  shall  be  unplaced, 
If  right  for  riches  lose  his  shape, 
If  world  for  wisdom  be  embraced  : 
The  guess  is  great  much  hurt  may  hap. 

Among  good  things,  I  prove  and  find, 
The  quiet  life  doth  most  abound  : 
And  sure  to  the  contented  mind 
There  is  no  riches  may  be  found. 

For  riches  hates  to  be  content ; 
Rule  enemy  is  to  quietness ; 
Power  is  most  part  impatient, 
And  seldom  likes  to  live  in  peace. 


154  TOTTEL  S    MISCELLANY 

I  heard  a  herdman  once  compare  : 
That  quiet  nights  he  had  more  slept, 
And  had  more  merry  days  to  spare, 
Than  he  which  own'd  the  beasts  he  kept. 

I  would  not  have  it  thought  hereby 
The  dolphin  swim  I  mean  to  teach  ; 
Nor  yet  to  learn  the  falcon  fly  : 
I  row  not  so  far  past  my  reach. 

But  as  my  part  above  the  rest 
Is  well  to  wish  and  well  to  will, 
So  till  my  breath  shall  fail  my  breast 
I  will  not  cease  to  wish  you  still. 

HE    WISHETH  DEATH 

Upon  consideration  of  the  state  of  this  life. 


longer  life,  the  more  offence  ; 
**•      The  more  offence,  the  greater  pain  ; 
The  greater  pain,  the  less  defence  ; 

The  less  defence,  the  lesser  gain  : 
The  loss  of  gain  long  ill  doth  try  : 
Wherefore  come  death,  and  let  me  die  ! 

The  shorter  life,  less  count  I  find  ; 

The  less  account,  the  sooner  made  ; 
The  count  soon  made,  the  merrier  mind  ; 

The  merry  mind  doth  thought  evade  : 
Short  life  in  truth  this  thing  doth  try  : 
Wherefore  come  death,  and  let  me  die  ! 

Come,  gentle  death  !  the  ebb  of  care  ; 
The  ebb  of  care,  the  flood  of  life  ; 


TOTTELS    MISCELLANY  155 

The  flood  of  life,  the  joyful  fare ; 

The  joyful  fare,  the  end  of  strife  : 
The  end  of  strife,  that  thing  wish  I : 
Wherefore  come  death,  and  let  me  die  ! 

LOVE'S  DISDAINER 

The  lover  that  once  disdained  Love  is  now  subject, 
being  caught  in  his  snare. 

'  I  ^O  this  my  song  give  ear  who  list, 
-••     And  mine  intent  judge  as  you  will ! 
The  time  is  come  that  I  have  miss'd 
The  thing  whereon  I  hoped  still ; 
And  from  the  top  of  all  my  trust 
Mishap  hath  thrown  me  in  the  dust. 

The  time  hath  been,  and  that  of  late, 
My  heart  (and  I)  might  leap  at  large, 

And  was  not  shut  within  the  gate 

Of  love's  desire  ;  nor  took  no  charge 

Of  any  thing  that  did  pertain 

As  touching  love  in  any  pain ; 

My  thought  was  free,  my  heart  was  light ; 

I  marked  not  who  lost,  who  saught ; 
I  play'd  by  day,  I  slept  by  night ; 

I  forced  not  who  wept,  who  laught : 
My  thought  from  all  such  things  was  free, 
And  I  myself  at  liberty. 

I  took  no  heed  to  taunts  nor  toys, 
As  lief  to  see  them  frown  as  smile  ; 


156  TOTTEL'S  MISCELLANY 

Where  fortune  laught  I  scorn'd  their  joys, 

I  found  their  frauds  and  every  wile  : 
And  to  myself  ofttimes  I  smiled 
To  see  how  love  had  them  beguiled. 

Thus  in  the  net  of  my  conceit 
I  masked  still  among  the  sort 

Of  such  as  fed  upon  the  bait 
That  Cupid  laid  for  his  disport ; 

And  ever  as  I  saw  them  caught 

I  them  beheld  and  thereat  laught. 

Till  at  the  length  when  Cupid  spied 
My  scornful  will,  and  spiteful  use, 

And  how  I  past  not  who  was  tied 
So  that  myself  might  still  live  loose, 

He  set  himself  to  lie  in  wait : 

And  in  my  way  he  threw  a  bait. 

Such  one  as  Nature  never  made, 
I  dare  well  say,  save  she  alone  : 

Such  one  she  was  as  would  invade 
A  heart  more  hard  than  marble  stone  : 

Such  one  she  is,  I  know  it  right, — 

Her  Nature  made  to  show  her  might. 

Then  as  a  man  even  in  a  maze, 
Whose  use  of  reason  is  away, 

So  I  began  to  stare  and  gaze  ; 
And  suddenly,  without  delay, 

Or  ever  I  had  wit  to  look, 

I  swallow'd  up  both  bait  and  hook. 


TOTTELS    MISCELLANY  157 

Which  daily  grieves  me  more  and  more 

By  sundry  sorts  of  careful  woe  ; 
And  none  alive  may  salve  the  sore 

But  only  she  that  hurt  me  so  : 
In  whom  my  life  doth  now  consist, 
To  save  or  slay  me  as  she  list. 

But  seeing  now  that  I  am  caught 

And  bound  so  fast  I  can  not  flee, 
Be  ye  by  mine  ensample  taught, 

That  in  your  fancies  feel  you  free  ! 
Despise  not  them  that  lovers  are  ! 
Lest  you  be  caught  within  his  snare. 


I 


WHERE   GOOD    WILL   IS 

SOME  PROOF  WILL   APPEAR 

T  is  no  fire  that  gives  no  heat, 
Though  it  appear  never  so  hot ; 

And  they  that  run  and  can  not  sweat 
Are  very  lean  and  dry,  God  wot. 

A  perfecl  leech  applieth  his  wits 
To  gather  herbs  of  all  degrees  ; 

And  fevers  with  their  fervent  fits 
Be  cured  with  their  contraries. 

New  wine  will  search  to  find  a  vent, 
Although  the  cask  be  never  so  strong ; 

And  wit  will  walk  when  will  is  bent, 
Although  the  way  be  never  so  long. 

The  rabbits  run  under  the  rocks ; 

The  snails  do  climb  the  highest  towers ; 


158  TOTTEL'S  MISCELLANY 

Gunpowder  cleaves  the  sturdy  blocks  ; 
A  fervent  will  all  thing  devours. 

When  wit  with  will,  and  diligent, 

Apply  themselves  and  match  as  mates, 

There  can  no  wanl^  of  resident 

From  force  defend  the  castle  gates. 

Forgetfulness  makes  little  haste ; 

And  sloth  delights  to  lie  full  soft ; 
That  telleth  the  deaf,  his  tale  doth  waste  ; 

And  is  full  dry,  that  craves  full  oft. 

PROMISE   OF  A    CONSTANT  LOVER 


A 


S  laurel  leaves  that  cease  not  to  be  green, 

From  parching  sun,  nor  yet  from  winter's  threat, 
As  harden'd  oak  that  fear'th  no  sword  so  keen, 
As  flint  for  tool  in  twain  that  will  not  fret, — 
As  fast  as  rock  or  pillar  surely  set, — 
So  fast  am  I  to  you,  and  aye  have  been, 
Assuredly  whom  I  can  not  forget, 
For  joy,  for  pain,  for  torment,  nor  for  tene, 
For  loss,  for  gain,  for  frowning,  nor  for  let : 
But  ever  one, —  yea  !  both  in  calm  and  blast, — 
Your  faithful  friend,  and  will  be  to  my  last. 


TOTTEL'S  MISCELLANY  159 


EACH  THING   HURT   OF  ITSELF 

WHY  fearest  thou  thy  outward  foe, 
When  thou  thyself  thy  harm  dost  feed  ? 
Of  grief,  or  hurt,  of  pain,  or  woe, 
Within  each  thing  is  sown  a  seed. 

So  fine  was  never  yet  the  cloth, 
No  smith  so  hard  his  iron  did  beat, 

But  the  one  consumed  was  with  moth, 
The  other  with  canker  all  to  fret. 

The  knotty  oak  and  wainscoat  old 
Within  doth  eat  the  silly  worm  : 

Even  so  a  mind  in  envy  roll'd 
Always  within  itself  doth  burn. 

Thus  every  thing  that  Nature  wrought 
Within  itself  his  hurt  doth  bear  : 

No  outward  harm  need  to  be  sought 
Whose  enemies  be  within  so  near. 

OF  A   ROSEMARY-BRANCH   SENT 

O  UCH  green  to  me  as  you  have  sent, 
^-•'  Such  green  to  you  I  send  again  : 
A  flowering  heart  that  will  not  faint 

For  dread  of  hope  or  loss  of  gain  : 
A  steadfast  thought  all  wholly  bent 

So  that  he  may  your  grace  obtain, 
As  you  by  proof  have  always  seen, 
To  live  your  own,  and  always  green. 


160  TOTTEL'S  MISCELLANY 


'"PHE  flickering  fame  that  flieth  from  ear  to  ear, 
-L     And  aye  her  strength  increaseth  with  her  flight, 
Gives  first  the  cause  why  men  delight  to  hear 

Of  those  whom  she  doth  note  for  beauty  bright : 
And  with  this  fame  that  flieth  on  so  fast 
Fancy  doth  hie  when  reason  makes  no  haste. 

And  yet,  not  so  content,  they  wish  to  espy 
And  thereby  know  if  fame  have  said  aright : 

More  trusting  to  the  trial  of  their  eye 

Than  to  the  bruit  that  goes  of  any  wight : 

Wise  in  that  point  that  lightly  will  not  leave, 

Unwise  to  seek  that  may  them  after  grieve. 

Who  knoweth  not  how  sight  may  love  allure 
And  kindle  in  the  heart  a  hot  desire, 

The  eye  to  work  that  fame  could  not  procure  : 
Of  greater  cause  there  cometh  hotter  fire  : 

For,  ere  he  weet,  himself  he  feeleth  warm, 

The  fame  and  eye  the  causers  of  his  harm. 

Let  fame  not  make  her  known  whom  I  shall  know, 
Nor  yet  mine  eye,  therein  to  be  my  guide  : 

Sufficeth  me  that  virtue  in  her  grow 

Whose  simple  life  her  father's  walls  do  hide. 

Content  with  this,  I  leave  the  rest  to  go  : 

And  in  such  choice  shall  stand  my  wealth  and  woe. 


TOTTEL'S    MISCELLANY  l6l 


OTHERS  PREFERRED 

O  OME  men  would  think  of  right  to  have 
k*-'  For  their  true  meaning  some  reward  : 
But  while  that  I  do  cry  and  crave, 
I  see  that  other  be  preferr'd. 
I  gape  for  that  I  am  debarr'd ; 
I  fare  as  doth  the  hound  at  hatch  : 
The  worse  I  speed,  the  longer  watch. 

My  wasteful  will  is  tried  by  trust, 

My  fond  fancy  is  mine  abuse ; 
For  that  I  would  refrain  my  lust, — 

For  mine  avail  I  can  not  choose  : 

A  will,  and  yet  no  power  to  use ; 
A  will, —  no  will  by  reason  just, 
Since  my  will  is  at  others'  must. 

They  eat  the  honey,  I  hold  the  hive  ; 

I  sow  the  seed,  they  reap  the  corn ; 
I  waste,  they  win  ;  I  draw,  they  drive  ; 

Theirs  is  the  thank,  mine  is  the  scorn ; 

I  seek,  they  speed,  in  waste  my  wind  is  worn  ; 
I  gape,  they  get,  and  greedily  I  snatch, 

Till  worse  I  speed,  the  longer  watch. 

I  fast,  they  feed  ;  they  drink,  I  thirst ; 

They  laugh,  I  wail ;  they  joy,  I  mourn  ; 
They  gain,  I  lose,  I  have  the  worst ; 

They  whole,  I  sick  ;  they  cold,  I  burn  ; 
They  leap,  I  lie  ;  they  sleep,  I  toss  and  turn  ; 


l62  TOTTEL'S    MISCELLANY 

I  would,  they  may ;  I  crave,  they  have  at  will : 
That  helpeth  them  (lo  !  cruelty)  doth  me  kill. 


N 


NO    JOY  HAVE   I 

O  JOY  HAVE  I,  but  live  in  heaviness  : 
My  Dame  of  price  bereft  by  Fortune's  cruelness, 
My  hap  is  turned  to  unhappiness  : 

Unhappy  I  am  unless  I  find  relesse. 


My  pastime  past,  my  youth-like  years  are  gone, 
My  months  of  mirth,  my  glistering  days  of  gladsomeness, 
My  times  of  triumph  turned  into  moan  : 
Unhappy  I  am  unless  I  find  relesse. 

My  wonted  wind  to  chaunt  my  cheerful  chance 
Doth  sigh  that  song  sometime  the  ballad  of  my  lesse  ; 
My  sobs  my  sore  and  sorrow  do  advance  : 
Unhappy  I  am  unless  I  find  relesse. 

I  mourn  my  mirth  for  grief  that  it  is  gone, — 
I  mourn  my  mirth  whereof  my  musing  mindfulness 
Is  ground  of  greater  grief  that  grows  thereon  : 
Unhappy  I  am  unless  I  find  relesse. 

No  joy  have  I :  for  Fortune  frowardly 
Hath  bent  her  brows,  hath  put  her  hand  to  cruelness, 
Hath  wrest  my  Dame,  constrained  me  to  cry  — 
Unhappy  I  am  unless  I  find  relesse. 


TOTTEL'S    MISCELLANY  163 


OF  THE   GOLDEN  MEAN 

'  I  ''HE  wisest  way  thy  boat  in  wave  and  wind  to  guie 
•*•  Is  neither  still  the  trade  of  middle  stream  to  try 
Ne,  warily  shunning  wreck  by  weather,  aye  too  nigh 
To  press  upon  the  perilous  shore. 

Both  cleanly  flees  he  filth,  ne  wonnes  a  wretched  wight 
In  carlish  coat,  and  careful  court  (aye  thrall  to  spite) 
With  port  of  proud  estate  he  leaves,  who  doth  delight 
Of  golden  mean  to  hold  the  lore. 

Storms  rifest  rend  the  sturdy  stout  pine-apple  tree  : 
Of  lofty  ruing  towers  the  falls  the  feller  be  ; 
Most  fierce  doth  lightning  light  where  farthest  we  do  see 
The  hills,  the  valley  to  forsake. 

Well  furnish'd  breast  to  bide  each  chance's  changeful  cheer 
In  woe  hath  cheerful  hope,  in  weal  hath  warefull  fear  : 
One  self  Jove  winter  makes  with  loathful  looks  appear 
That  can  by  course  the  same  aslake. 

What  if  into  mishap  the  case  now  casten  be, 
It  forceth  not  such  form  of  luck  to  last  to  thee  : 
Not  alway  bent  is  Phoebus'  bow ;  his  harp  and  he 
Ceased  silver  sound  sometime  doth  raise. 

In  hardest  hap  use  help  of  hardy  hopeful  heart ; 
Seem  bold,  to  bear  the  brunt  of  fortune  overthwart ; 
Eke  wisely,  when  fore-wind  to  full  breathes  on  thy  part, 
'Suage  swelling  sail,  and  doubt  decays  ! 


164  TOTTEL'S    MISCELLANY 


THE  PRAISE   OF  A   TRUE  FRIEND 

~\  A  THOSO  that  wisely  weighs  the  profit  and  the  price 
*    V   of  things  wherein  delight  by  worth  is  wont  to  rise, 
Shall  find  no  jewel  is  so  rich  ne  yet  so  rare 
That  with  the  friendly  heart  in  value  may  compare. 

What  other  wealth  to  man  by  fortune  may  befall, 
But  Fortune's  changed  cheer  may  reave  a  man  of  all  ? 
A  friend  no  wrack  of  wealth,  no  cruel  cause  of  woe, 
Can  cause  his  friendly  faith  unfriendly  to  forego. 

If  Fortune  friendly  fawn,  and  lend  thee  wealthy  store, 
Thy  friend's  conjoined  joy  doth  make  thy  joy  the  more  ; 
If  frowardly  she  frown,  and  drive  thee  to  distress, 
His  aid  relieves  thy  ruth  and  makes  thy  sorrow  less. 

Thus  Fortune's  pleasant  fruits  by  friends  increased  be ; 
The  bitter,  sharp,  and  sour,  by  friends  allay'd  to  thee  : 
That  when  thou  dost  rejoice,  then  doubled  is  thy  joy ; 
And  eke  in  cause  of  care  the  less  is  thy  annoy. 

Aloft  if  thou  dost  live,  as  one  appointed  here 
A  stately  part  on  stage  of  worldly  state  to  bear, 
Thy  friend,  as  only  free  from  fraud,  will  thee  advise 
To  rest  within  the  rule  of  mean,  as  do  the  wise. 

He  seeketh  to  foresee  the  peril  of  thy  fall ; 
He  findeth  out  thy  faults,  and  warns  thee  of  them  all ; 
Thee,  not  thy  luck,  he  loves  :  whatever  be  thy  case, 
He  is  thy  faithful  friend,  and  thee  he  doth  embrace. 


TOTTEL'S    MISCELLANY  165 

If  churlish  cheer  of  chance  have  thrown  thee  into  thrall, 

And  that  thy  need  ask  aid  for  to  relieve  thy  fall, 

In  him  thou  secret  trust  assured  art  to  have, 

And  succour,  not  to  seek,  before  that  thou  can  crave. 

Thus  is  thy  friend  to  thee  the  comfort  of  thy  pain, 
The  stayer  of  thy  state,  the  doubler  of  thy  gain  ; 
In  wealth  and  woe  thy  friend,  an  other  self  to  thee  : 
Such  man  to  man  a  God,  the  proverb  saith  to  be. 

As  wealth  will  bring  thee  friends  in  lowering  woe  to  prove, 
So  woe  shall  yield  thee  friends  in  laughing  wealth  to  love  : 
With  wisdom  choose  thy  friend ; —  with  virtue  him  retain  ! 
Let  virtue  be  the  ground  !  So  shall  it  not  be  vain. 


FROM   THE   PARADISE   OF   DAINTY   DEVICES 

LIFE'S   STAY 

M 'an 's  flitting  life  finds  surest  stay 
Where  sacred  Virtue  beareth  sway. 

'  I  ^HE  sturdy  rock,  for  all  his  strength, 
-*-    By  raging  seas  is  rent  in  twain  ; 
The  marble  stone  is  pierced  at  length 

With  little  drops  of  drizzling  rain  ; 
The  ox  doth  yield  unto  the  yoke  ; 
The  steel  obeys  the  hammer-stroke  ; 


l66  PARADISE    OF    DAINTY    DEVICES 

The  stately  stag,  that  seems  so  stout, 
By  yelping  hounds  at  bay  is  set ; 

The  swiftest  bird  that  flies  about 
Is  caught  at  length  in  fowler's  net ; 

The  greatest  fish  in  deepest  brook 

Is  soon  deceived  with  subtle  hook  ; 

Yea,  man  himself,  unto  whose  will 
All  things  are  bounden  to  obey, 

For  all  his  wit  and  worthy  skill 
Doth  fade  at  length  and  fall  away. 

There  is  no  thing  but  Time  doth  waste  ; 

The  heavens,  the  earth,  consume  at  last. 

But  Virtue  sits,  triumphing  still, 
Upon  the  throne  of  glorious  fame  : 

Though  spiteful  Death  man's  body  kill, 
Yet  hurts  he  not  his  virtuous  name. 

By  life  or  death,  whatso  betides, 

The  state  of  Virtue  never  slides. 

THE  LOST  FRIEND 

~\  A  7~HY  should  I  longer  long  to  live 
*    '    In  this  disease  of  fantasy? 
Since  Fortune  doth  not  cease  to  give 
Things  to  my  mind  most  contrary ; 
And  at  my  joys  doth  lour  and  frown, 
Till  she  hath  turn'd  them  upside  down. 

A  friend  I  had,  to  me  most  dear, 

And  of  long  time,  faithful  and  just, — 


PARADISE    OF    DAINTY    DEVICES 


There  was  no  one  my  heart  so  near, 

Nor  one  in  whom  I  had  more  trust,  — 
Whom  now  of  late,  without  cause  why, 
Fortune  hath  made  my  enemy. 

The  grass,  methinks,  should  grow  in  sky, 
The  stars  unto  the  earth  cleave  fast, 

The  water-stream  should  pass  awry, 

The  winds  should  leave  their  strength  of  blast, 

The  sun  and  moon  by  one  assent 

Should  both  forsake  the  firmament, 

The  fish  in  air  should  fly  with  fin, 

The  fowls  in  flood  should  bring  forth  fry, 

All  things,  methinks,  should  first  begin 
To  take  their  course  unnaturally, 

Afore  my  friend  should  alter  so, 

Without  a  cause  to  be  my  foe. 

But  such  is  Fortune's  hate,  I  say, 

Such  is  her  will  on  me  to  wreak, 
Such  spite  she  hath  at  me  alway, 

And  ceaseth  not  my  heart  to  break  : 
With  such  despite  of  cruelty, 
Wherefore  then  longer  live  should  I  ? 


1 68  PARADISE    OF    DAINTY    DEVICES 


MAY 

WHEN  MAY  is  in  his  prime, 
Then  may  each  heart  rejoice  ; 
When  May  bedecks  each  branch  with  green. 
Each  bird  strains  forth  his  voice. 

The  lively  sap  creeps  up 

Into  the  blooming  thorn  ; 
The  flowers,  which  cold  in  prison  kept, 

Now  laugh  the  frost  to  scorn. 

All  Nature's  imps  triumph 

Whiles  joyful  May  doth  last ; 
When  May  is  gone,  of  all  the  year 

The  pleasant  time  is  past. 

May  makes  the  cheerful  hue  ; 

May  breeds  and  brings  new  blood  ; 
May  marcheth  throughout  every  limb  ; 

May  makes  the  merry  mood. 

May  pricketh  tender  hearts 

Their  warbling  notes  to  tune  ; — 

Full  strange  it  is,  yet  some,  we  see, 
Do  make  their  May  in  June. 

Thus  things  are  strangely  wrought 

Whiles  joyful  May  doth  last : 
Take  May  in  time  !  when  May  is  gone, 

The  pleasant  time  is  past. 


PARADISE    OF    DAINTY   DEVICES  169 

All  ye  that  live  on  earth, 

And  have  your  May  at  will, 
Rejoice  in  May,  as  I  do  now, 

And  use  your  May  with  skill ! 

Use  May  while  that  you  may, 

For  May  hath  but  his  time  ! 
When  all  the  fruit  is  gone  it  is 

Too  late  the  tree  to  climb. 

Your  liking  and  your  lust 

Is  fresh  whiles  May  doth  last : 
When  May  is  gone,  of  all  the  year 

The  pleasant  time  is  past. 


FROM    BYRD'S    SET   SONGS 


RIGHT   CAREFULNESS 


for  thy  soul  as  thing  of  greatest  price, 
^-^  Made  to  the  end  to  taste  of  power  divine, 
Devoid  of  guilt,  abhorring  sin  and  vice, 

Apt  by  God's  grace  to  virtue  to  incline  ! 
Care  for  it  so  that  by  thy  reckless  train 
It  be  not  brought  to  taste  eternal  pain  ! 

Care  for  thy  corpse,  but  chiefly  for  soul's  sake  ! 
Cut  off  excess  !  sustaining  food  is  best. 


I/O  BYRD'S    SET    SONGS 

To  vanquish  pride,  but  comely  clothing  take  ! 

Seek  after  skill !  deep  ignorance  detest ! 
Care  so  (I  say)  the  flesh  to  feed  and  clothe, 
That  thou  harm  not  thy  soul  and  body  both  ! 

Care  for  the  world,  to  do  thy  body  right ! 

Rack  not  thy  wit  to  win  by  wicked  ways  ! 
Seek  not  to  oppress  the  weak  by  wrongful  might ! 

To  pay  thy  due  do  banish  all  delays  ! 
Care  to  dispend  according  to  thy  store  ; 
And  in  like  sort  be  mindful  of  the  poor  ! 

Care  for  thy  soul,  as  for  thy  chiefest  stay  ! 

Care  for  the  body,  for  the  soul's  avail ! 
Care  for  the  world,  for  body's  help  alway  ! 

Care  yet  but  so  as  virtue  may  prevail ! 
Care  in  such  sort  that  thou  beware  of  this  — 
Care  keep  thee  not  from  heaven  and  heavenly  bliss  ! 


LOVE'S  ARROWS 

The  golden  and  leaden  arrows  of  Love 

"U^ROM  Citheron  the  warlike  Boy  is  fled, 
•*•      And  smiling  sits  upon  a  Virgin's  lap, — 

Thereby  to  train  poor  misers  to  the  trap, 
Whom  Beauty  draws  with  fancy  to  be  fed  : 
And  when  Desire  with  eager  looks  is  led, 
Then  from  her  eyes 
The  arrow  flies, 
Feather'd  with  flame,  arm'd  with  a  golden  head. 


BYRD'S    SET    SONGS 


Her  careless  thoughts  are  freed  of  that  flame 
Wherewith  her  thralls  are  scorched  to  the  heart  : 
If  Love  would  so,  would  God  the  enchanting  dart 
Might  once  return  and  burn  from  whence  it  came  ! 
Not  to  deface  of  Beauty's  work  the  frame, 
But  by  rebound 
It  might  be  found 
What  secret  smart  I  suffer  by  the  same. 

If  Love  be  just,  then  just  is  my  desire  ; 
And  if  unjust,  why  is  he  call'd  a  God  ? 
O  god,  O  god,  O  Just  !  reserve  thy  rod 
To  chasten  those  that  from  thy  laws  retire  ! 
But  choose  aright  (good  Love  !  I  thee  require), 
The  golden  head, 
Not  that  of  lead  ! 
Her  heart  is  frost  and  must  dissolve  by  fire. 


I 


LOVE'S   QUALITIES 

S  LOVE  a  boy, —  what  means  he  then  to  strike  ? 
Or  is  he  blind, —  why  will  he  be  a  guide  ? 
Is  he  a  man, —  why  doth  he  hurt  his  like  ? 
Is  he  a  god, —  why  doth  he  men  deride  ? 
No  one  of  these,  but  one  compact  of  all : 
A  wilful  boy,  a  man  still  dealing  blows, 
Of  purpose  blind  to  lead  men  to  their  thrall, 
A  god  that  rules  unruly  —  God,  he  knows. 

Boy  !  pity  me  that  am  a  child  again ; 

Blind,  be  no  more  my  guide  to  make  me  stray : 


1/2  BYRD'S    SET    SONGS 

Man  !  use  thy  might  to  force  away  my  pain ; 
God  !  do  me  good  and  lead  me  to  my  way ; 
And  if  thou  beest  a  power  to  me  unknown, 
Power  of  my  life  !  let  here  thy  grace  be  shown. 

CUPID'S  DELIVERANCE 

T  T  PON  a  summer's  day  Love  went  to  swim, 
*«— '   And  cast  himself  into  a  sea  of  tears  ; 
The  clouds  call'd  in  their  light,  and  heaven  wax'd  dim, 
And  sighs  did  raise  a  tempest,  causing  fears. 
The  naked  boy  could  not  so  wield  his  arms 
But  that  the  waves  were  masters  of  his  might, 
And  threaten'd  him  to  work  far  greater  harm's 
If  he  devised  not  to  escape  by  flight. 

Then  for  a  boat  his  quiver  stood  in  stead, 
His  bow  unbent  did  serve  him  for  a  mast, 
Whereby  to  sail  his  cloth  of  vayle  he  spread, 
His  shafts  for  oars  on  either  board  he  cast : 
From  shipwreck  safe  this  wag  got  thus  to  shore, 
And  svvare  to  bathe  in  lovers'  tears  no  more. 

THE  HERD-MAN'S  HAPPY  LIFE 

WHAT  pleasure  have  great  princes 
More  dainty  to  their  choice 
Than  herd-men  wild  who,  careless, 

In  quiet  life  rejoice 
And,  fickle  Fortune  scorning, 
Sing  sweet  in  summer  morning? 


BYRD'S    SET    SONGS 


Their  dealings,  plain  and  rightful, 

Are  void  of  all  deceit  ; 
They  never  know  how  spiteful 

It  is  to  kneel  and  wait 
On  favourite  presumptuous 
Whose  pride  is  vain  and  sumptuous. 

All  day  their  flecks  each  tendeth, 
At  night  they  take  their  rest  : 

More  quiet  than  who  sendeth 
His  ship  into  the  East, 

Where  gold  and  pearl  are  plenty, 

But  getting  very  dainty. 

For  lawyers  and  their  pleading, 
They  esteem  it  not  a  straw  ; 

They  think  that  honest  meaning 
Is  of  itself  a  law  : 

Where  conscience  judgeth  plainly 

They  spend  no  money  vainly. 

O,  happy  who  thus  liveth, 
Not  caring  much  for  gold, 

With  clothing  that  sufficeth 
To  keep  him  from  the  cold  : 

Though  poor  and  plain  his  diet, 

Yet  merry  it  is  and  quiet. 


BYRD'S    SET    SONGS 


PHIL  ON  THE  SHEPHERD 

HIS  SONG 

~\  A  7"HILE  that  the  sun  with  his  beams  hot 
*    *    Scorched  the  fruits  in  vale  and  mountain, 
Philon,  the  shepherd,  late  forgot 
Sitting  beside  a  crystal  fountain, 
In  shadow  of  a  green  oak  tree, 
Upon  his  pipe  this  song  play'd  he  : 
Adieu,  Love  !  adieu,  Love  !  untrue  Love  ! 
Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love  !  adieu,  Love  ! 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  a  new  love. 

So  long  as  I  was  in  your  sight, 

I  was  your  heart,  your  soul,  your  treasure  ; 
And  evermore  you  sobb'd  and  sigh'd, 
Burning  in  flames  beyond  all  measure. 
Three  days  endured  your  love  for  me, 
And  it  was  lost  in  other  three. 
Adieu,  Love  !  adieu,  Love  !  untrue  Love  ! 
Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love  !  adieu,  Love  ! 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  a  new  love. 

Another  shepherd  you  did  see, 

To  whom  your  heart  was  soon  enchained  ; 
Full  soon  your  love  was  leapt  from  me, 
Full  soon  my  place  he  had  obtained  : 
Soon  came  a  third  your  love  to  win  ; 
And  we  were  out,  and  he  was  in. 
Adieu,  Love  !  adieu,  Love  !  untrue  Love  ! 
Untrue  Love  !  untrue  Love  !  adieu,  Love  ! 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  a  new  love. 


BYRD'S    SET    SONGS  175 

Sure,  you  have  made  me  passing  glad 

That  you  your  mind  so  soon  removed, 
Before  that  I  the  leisure  had 
To  choose  you  for  my  best-beloved  : 
For  all  my  love  was  past  and  done 
Two  days  before  it  was  begun. 
Adieu,  Love  !  adieu,  Love  !  untrue  Love  ! 
Untrue  Love,  untrue  Love  !  adieu,  Love  ! 
Your  mind  is  light,  soon  lost  for  a  new  love. 


BROWN  IS  MY  LOVE 

i  ROWN  is  my  Love,  but  graceful : 

And  each  renowned  whiteness 
Match'd  with  her  lovely  brown  loseth  its  brightness. 


B 


Fair  is  my  Love,  but  scornful : 
Yet  have  I  seen  despised 
White  dainty  lilies,  and  sad  flowers  well  prized. 

CYNTHIA 

/^YNTHIA,  thy  song  and  chaunting 
^-'  So  strange  a  flame  in  gentle  hearts  awaketh 
That  every  cold  desire  wanton  Love  maketh 

Sounds  to  thy  praise  and  vaunting, 
Of  Syrens  most  commended 
That  with  delightful  tunes  for  praise  contended  ! 

For,  when  thou  sweetly  soundest, 

Thou  neither  kill'st  nor  woundest, 

But  dost  revive  a  number 
Of  bodies  buried  in  perpetual  slumber. 


FROM   THE   PHOENIX   NEST 

THE  ANATOMY  OF  LOVE 

1VT  OW  what  is  love  ?     I  pray  thee  tell. 

•*•  ^    It  is  that  fountain  and  that  well 
Where  pleasure  and  repentance  dwell : 
It  is  perhaps  that  sauncing  bell 
That  tolls  all  in  to  heaven  or  hell : 
And  this  is  love,  as  I  hear  tell. 

Yet,  what  is  love  ?     I  pray  thee  say. 
It  is  a  work  on  holiday  : 
It  is  December  match'd  with  May  : 
When  lusty  bloods,  in  fresh  array, 
Hear  ten  months  after  of  the  play  : 
And  this  is  love,  as  I  hear  say. 

Yet,  what  is  love  ?     I  pray  thee  sain. 
It  is  a  sunshine  inix'd  with  rain  : 
It  is  a  toothache,  or  like  pain  : 
It  is  a  game  where  none  doth  gain  : 
The  lass  saith  Oh  !  and  would  full  fain 
And  this  is  love,  as  I  hear  sain. 

Yet,  what  is  love  ?     I  pray  thee  say. 

It  is  a  Yea,  it  is  a  Nay  : 

A  pretty  kind  of  sporting  fray  : 

It  is  a  thing  will  soon  away  : 

Then  take  the  vantage  while  you  may  ! 

And  this  is  love,  as  I  hear  say. 


PHCENIX    NEST  177 


Yet,  what  is  love?     I  pray  thee  show. 
A  thing  that  creeps,  it  can  not  go  : 
A  prize  that  passeth  to  and  fro  : 
A  thing  for  me,  a  thing  for  mo  : 
And  he  that  proves  must  find  it  so  : 
And  this  is  love,  sweet  friend  !  I  trow. 

TO  NIGHT 

O  NIGHT  !  O  jealous  Night !  repugnant  to  my 
measures ; 

0  Night  so  long  desired,  yet  cross  to  my  content ! 
There  's  none  but  only  thou  that  can  perform  my 

pleasures, 
Yet  none  but  only  thou  that  hindereth  my  intent. 

Thy  beams,  thy  spiteful  beams,  thy  lamps  that  burn 

.     too  brightly, 

Discover  all  my  trains  and  naked  lay  my  drifts  : 
That  night  by  night  I  hope,  yet  fails  my  purpose  nightly, 
Thy  envious  glaring  gleam  defeateth  so  my  shifts. 

Sweet  Night !  withhold  thy  beams,  withhold  them  till 

to-morrow, 

Whose  joys  in  lack  so  long  a  hell  of  torment  breeds ; 
Sweet  Night,  sweet  gentle  Night !  do  not  prolong  my 

sorrow  ! 
Desire  is  guide  to  me,  and  love  no  loadstar  needs. 

Let  sailors  gaze  on  stars  and  moon  so  freshly  shining ; 
Let  them  that  miss  the  way  be  guided  by  the  light : 

1  know  my  Lady's  bower,  there  needs  no  more  divining, 


1/8  PIICENIX    NEST 


Affedlion  sees  in  dark,  and  love  hath  eyes  by  night. 

Dame  Cynthia  !  couch  awhile,  hold  in  thy  horns  from 

shining, 

And  glad  not  louring  Night  with  thy  too  glorious  rays  ; 
But  be  she  dim  and  dark,  tempestuous  and  repining, 
That  in  her  spite  my  sport  may  work  thy  endless  praise. 

0 

And  when  my  will  is  wrought,  then  Cynthia  !  shine, 

good  lady  ! 

All  other  nights  and  days,  in  honour  of  that  night, 
That  happy  heavenly  night,  that  night  so  dark  and  shady, 
Wherein  my  love  had  eyes  that  lighted  my  delight ! 

SET  ME    WHERE  PIKE  BUS 

SET  ME  where  Phcebus'  heat  the  flowers  slayeth, 
Or  where  continual  snow  withstands  his  forces  ; 
Set  me  where  he  his  temperate  rays  displayeth, 
Or  where  he  comes,  or  where  he  never  courses  ! 

Set  me  in  Fortune's  grace,  or  else  discharged ; 

In  sweet  and  pleasant  air,  or  dark  and  glooming ; 
Where  days  and  nights  are  lesser  or  enlarged ; 

In  years  of  strength,  in  failing  age,  or  blooming  ! 

Set  me  in  heaven,  or  earth,  or  in  the  centre ; 

Low  in  a  vale,  or  on  a  mountain  placed ; 
Set  me  to  danger,  peril,  or  adventure, 

Graced  by  fame,  or  infamy  disgraced  !        : 

Set  me  to  these,  or  any  other  trial 
Except  my  Mistress'  anger  and  denial. 


FROM   DOWLAND'S   SONG   BOOKS 

THE  LOVER'S  DESPAIR 

T^LOW  FORTH,  abundant  tears  ! 
•*•      Bedew  this  doleful  face  ; 
Disorder  now  thy  hairs, 
That  livest  in  such  disgrace  ! 

Ah  !  death  exceedeth  far 
This  life  which  I  endure, 

That  still  keeps  me  in  war, 
Who  no  peace  can  procure. 

I  love  whom  I  should  hate ; 

She  flies,  I  follow  fast : 
Such  is  my  bitter  state, 

I  wish  no  life  to  last. 

Alas  !  affection  strong 
To  whom  I  must  obey 

My  reason  so  doth  wrong 
As  it  can  bear  no  sway. 

My  field  of  flint  I  find, 
My  harvest  vain  desire  : 

For  he  that  sowed  wind 

Now  reapeth  storm  for  hire. 

Alas  !  like  flowers  of  spine 
Thy  graces  rosy  be  : 


ISO  DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 

I  prick  these  hands  of  mine, 
For  haste  to  gather  thee. 

But  now  shall  sorrow  slake ; 

I  yield  to  mortal  strife  : 
To  die  thus  for  thy  sake 

Shall  honour  all  my  life. 

LOVE  AND   SORROW 

T    OVE  is  a  spirit  high  presuming, 
J— '  That  falleth  oft  ere  he  sit  fast ; 
Care  is  a  sorrow  long  consuming, 

Which  yet  doth  kill  the  heart  at  last ; 
Death  is  a  wrong  to  life  and  love  : 
And  I  the  pains  of  all  must  prove. 

Words  are  but  trifles  in  regarding, 
And  pass  away  as  puffs  of  wind ; 

Deeds  are  too  long  in  their  rewarding, 
And  out  of  sight  are  out  of  mind  : 

And  those  so  little  favour  feed,  i 

As  finds  no  fruit  in  word  or  deed. 

Truth  is  a  thought  too  long  in  trial, 
And,  known,  but  coldly  entertain'd  ; 

Love  is  too  long  in  his  denial, 

And  in  the  end  but  hardly  gain'd  : 

And  in  the  gain  the  sweet  so  small, 

That  I  must  taste  the  sour  of  all. 

But  O  !  the  death  too  long  enduring, 
Where  nothing  can  my  pain  appease ; 


DOWLAND'S    SONG  BOOKS  l8j 


And  O  !  the  cure  so  long  in  curing, 

Where  patient  hurt  hath  never  ease  : 
And  O  !  that  ever  love  should  know 
The  ground  whereof  a  grief  doth  grow. 

But,  heavens  !  heal  me  from  this  hell ; 
Or  let  me  die,  and  I  am  well. 

SERENADE 

/^OME  AWAY  !   come,  sweet  Love  ! 
^•^  The  golden  morning  breaks  : 
All  the  earth,  all  the  air, 

Of  love  and  pleasure  speaks. 
Teach  thine  arms  then  to  embrace, 

And  sweet  rosy  lips  to  kiss, 
And  mix  our  souls  in  mutual  bliss  : 
Eyes  were  made  for  beauty's  grace, 
Viewing,  ruing  love-long  pain 
Procured  by  beauty's  rude  disdain. 

Come  away  !  come,  sweet  Love  ! 

The  golden  morning  wastes 
While  the  sun  from  his  sphere 

His  fiery  arrows  casts  : 
Making  all  the  shadows  fly, 

Playing,  staying  in  the  grove 
To  entertain  the  stealth  of  love. 
Thither,  sweet  Love  !  let  us  hie, 
Flying,  dying  in  desire, 
Wing'd  with  sweet  hopes  and  heavenly  fire. 


l82  DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 

Come  away  !  come,  sweet  Love  ! 

Do  not  in  vain  adorn 
Beauty's  grace,  that  should  rise 

Like  to  the  naked  Morn. 
Lilies  on  the  river  side 
And  fair  Cyprian  flowers  new-blown 

Desire  no  beauties  but  their  own  : 
Ornament  is  nurse  of  pride. 
Pleasure  measures  love's  delight : 
Haste  then,  sweet  Love  !  our  wished  flight. 

CONSTANCY 

T~~\  EAR  !  if  you  change,  I  '11  never  choose  again ; 
-• — '  Sweet !  if  you  shrink,  I  '11  never  think  of  love  ; 

Fair  !  if  you  fail,  I  '11  judge  all  beauty  vain  ; 

Wise  !  if  too  weak,  more  wits  I  '11  never  prove. 

Dear  !  Sweet !  Fair  !  Wise  !  change,  shrink  not, 

nor  be  weak  : 

And,  on  my  faith,  my  faith  shall  never  break. 

Earth  with  her  flowers  shall  sooner  heaven  adorn ; 
Heaven  her  bright  stars  through  earth's  dim  globe 

shall  move ; 

Fire  heat  shall  lose,  and  frosts  of  flames  be  born ; 
Air,  made  to  shine,  as  black  as  hell  shall  prove  : 
Earth,  heaven,  fire,  air,  the  world  transform'd  shall 

view, 
Ere  I  prove  false  to  faith  or  strange  to  you. 


DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS  183 


TO   CYNTHIA 

A  A  Y  THOUGHTS  are  wing'd  with  hope,  my 

hopes  with  love  : 

Mount,  love  !  unto  the  Moon  in  clearest  night ; 
And  say,  as  she  doth  in  the  heavens  move, 

In  earth  so  wanes  and  waxes  nay  delight. 
And  whisper  this,  but  softly,  in  her  ears, — 
Hope  oft  doth  hang  the  head,  and  trust  shed  tears. 

And  you,  my  thoughts  !  that  some  mistrust  do  carry, 
If  for  mistrust  my  Mistress  do  you  blame, 

Say,  though  you  alter,  yet  you  do  not  vary, 
As  she  doth  change  and  yet  remain  the  same  : 

Distrust  doth  enter  hearts,  but  not  infect, 

And  love  is  sweetest  season'd  with  suspect. 

If  she  for  this  with  clouds  do  mask  her  eyes, 
And  make  the  heavens  dark  with  her  disdain, 

With  windy  sighs  disperse  them  in  the  skies, 
Or  with  thy  tears  dissolve  them  into  rain  ! 

Thoughts,  hopes,  and  love,  return  to  me  no  more 

Till  Cynthia  shine  as  she  hath  done  before  ! 

LOVE'S   MESSENGERS 

O,  crystal  tears  !  like  to  the  morning  showers, 
And  sweetly  weep  into  my  Lady's  breast ; 
And,  as  the  dews  revive  the  drooping  flowers, 

So  let  your  drops  of  pity  be  address'd 
To  quicken  up  the  thoughts  of  my  desart, 
Which  sleep  too  sound  whilst  I  from  her  depart. 


184  DOWLAND'S    SONG   BOOKS 

Haste,  restless  sighs  !  and  let  your  burning  breath 

Dissolve  the  ice  of  her  indurate  heart, 
Whose  frozen  rigour,  like  forgetful  death, 

Feels  never  any  touch  of  my  desart : 
Yet  sighs  and  tears  to  her  I  sacrifice, 
Both  from  a  spotless  heart  and  patient  eyes. 

WEEP  YOU  NO  MORE 

WEEP  YOU  NO  MORE,  sad  fountains  ! 
What  need  you  flow  so  fast  ? 
Look  how  the  snowy  mountains 
Heaven's  sun  doth  gently  waste  ! 
But  my  sun's  heavenly  eyes 
View  not  your  weeping, 
That  now  lies  sleeping 
Softly,  now  softly  lies, 

Sleeping. 

Sleep  is  a  reconciling, 

A  rest  that  peace  begets  : 
Doth  not  the  sun  rise  smiling    . 

When  fair  at  even  he  sets  ? 
Rest  you  then,  rest,  sad  eyes  ! 
Melt  not  in  weeping  \ 
While  she  lies  sleeping 
Softly,  now  softly  lies,       • 
Sleeping. 


DOVVLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS  185 


WHITE  AS  LILIES 

WHITE  AS  LILIES  was  her  face 
When  She  smiled 
She  beguiled, 

Quiting  faith  with  foul  disgrace. 
Virtue's  service  thus  neglected 
Heart  with  sorrows  hath  infected. 

When  I  swore  my  heart  her  own, 

She  disdained ; 

I  complained, 

Yet  She  left  me  overthrown  : 
Careless  of  my  bitter  grieving, 
Ruthless,  bent  to  no  relieving. 

Vows  and  oaths  and  faith  assured, 

Constant  ever, 

Changing  never, — 
Yet  She  could  not  be  procured 
To  believe  my  pains  exceeding 
From  her  scant  respecl  proceeding. 

O  that  love  should  have  the  art, 

By  surmises, 

And  disguises, 
To  destroy  a  faithful  heart ; 
Or  that  wanton- looking  women 
Should  regard  their  friends  as  foemen 

All  in  vain  is  ladies'  love, — 
Quickly  choosed, 


1 86  DOWLAND'S    SONG   BOOKS 

Shortly  loosed  : 
For  their  pride  is  to  remove. 
Out,  alas  !  their  looks  first  won  us, 
And  their  pride  hath  straight  undone  us. 

To  thyself,  the  Sweetest  Fair  ! 

Thou  hast  wounded, 

And  confounded 

Changeless  faith  with  foul  despair ; 
And  my  service  hast  envied, 
And  my  succours  hast  denied. 

By  thine  error  thou  hast  lost 

Heart  unfeigned, 

Truth  unstained, 
And  the  swain  that  loved  most, 
More  assured  in  love  than  many, 
More  despised  in  love  than  any. 

For  my  heart,  though  set  at  nought, 

Since  you  will  it, 

Spoil  and  kill  it ! 
I  will  never  change  my  thought : 
But  grieve  that  beauty  e'er  was  born 
Thus  to  answer  love  with  scorn. 


DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS  187 


EYES  AND   HEARTS 

TV T  OW  CEASE,  my  wandering  eyes  ! 
•*•  ^    Strange  beauties  to  admire  ; 
In  change  least  comfort  lies. 
Long  joys  yield  long  desire. 

One  faith,  one  love, 
Makes  our  frail  life  eternal  sweetness  prove ; 

New  hopes,  new  joys, 
Are  still  with  sore  declining  unto  deep  annoys. 

One  man  hath  but  one  soul, 
Which  art  can  not  divide  : 
If  all  must  love  one  whole, 
Two  loves  must  be  denied.  \ 

One  soul,  one  love, 
By  faith  and  merit  knit,  can  not  remove  ; 

Distradled  sprights 
Are  ever  changing  and  hapless  in  their  delights. 

Nature  two  eyes  hath  given, 

All  beauty  to  impart, 
As  well  in  earth  as  heaven  : 
But  she  hath  given  one  heart 

That,  though  we  see 
Ten  thousand  beauties,  yet  in  us  should  be 

One  stedfast  love, — 

Because  our  hearts  stand  fix'd,  although  our  eyes 

do  move. 


1 88  DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 


FALSE  ASTRONOMY 

WHAT  poor  astronomers  are  they 
Take  women's  eyes  for  stars, 
And  set  their  thoughts  in  battle  array 

To  fight  such  idle  wars, 
When  in  the  end  they  shall  approve 
'Tis  but  a  jest  drawn  out  of  love. 

And  love  itself  is  but  a  jest, 

Devised  by  idle  heads 
To  catch  young  Fancies  in  the  nest, 

And  lay  them  in  fools'  beds  : 
That,  being  hatch'd  in  Beauty's  eyes, 
They  may  be  fledged  ere  they  be  wise. 

But  yet  it  is  a  sport  to  see 
How  Wit  will  run  on  wheels, 

While  Wit  can  not  persuaded  be 
With  that  which  Wisdom  feels  : 

That  woman's  eyes  and  stars  are  odd ; 

And  Love  is  but  a  feigned  god. 

But  such  as  will  run  mad  with  will, — 

I  can  not  clear  their  sight, 
But  leave  them  to  their  study  still, 

To  look  where  is  no  light : 
Till  time  too  late  we  make  them  try 
They  study  false  astronomy. 


DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS  189 


THE  HERMIT'S  SONG 

TJ^ROM  fame's  desire,  from  love's  delight  retired, 
•*•    In  these  sad  groves  an  hermit's  life  I  lead ; 
And  those  false  pleasures  which  I  once  admired 

With  sad  remembrance  of  my  fall  I  dread. 
To  birds,  to  trees,  to  earth,  impart  I  this  : 
For  She  less  secret  and  as  senseless  is. 

Experience,  which  repentance  only  brings, 

Doth  bid  me  now  my  heart  from  love  estrange  : 

Love  is  disdain'd  when  it  doth  look  at  kings, 
And  love  low  placed  base  and  apt  to  change. 

Their  power  doth  take  from  him  his  liberty ; 

Her  want  of  worth  makes  him  in  cradle  die. 

You  men  that  give  false  worship  unto  Love 
And  seek  that  which  you  never  shall  obtain, 

The  endless  work  of  Sisiphus  you  prove, 

Whose  end  is  this  —  to  know  you  strive  in  vain. 

Hope  and  Desire,  which  now  your  idols  be, 

You  needs  must  lose,  and  feel  despair  with  me. 

You  woods  !  in  you  the  fairest  nymphs  have  walk'd, 
Nymphs  at  whose  sight  all  hearts  did  yield  to  love ; 

You  woods  !  in  whom  dear  lovers  oft  have  talk'd  : 
How  do  you  now  a  place  of  mourning  prove  ! 

Wanstead  !  my  Mistress  saith  this  is  the  doom. 

Thou  art  love's  child-bed,  nursery,  and  tomb. 


ICp  DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 


LOVE  AND  FORTUNE 

TRACTION,  that  ever  dwells  in  Court,  where  wit 
excels, 

Hath  set  defiance : 

Fortune  and  Love  have  sworn  that  they  were  never 
born 

Of  one  alliance. 

Cupid,  which  doth  aspire  to  be  God  of  desire, 

Swears  he  gives  laws  ; 
That  where  his  arrows  hit  some  joy,  some  sorrow  it : 

Fortune  no  cause. 

Fortune  swears  weakest  hearts  (the  books  of  Cupid's 
arts) 

Turn'd  with  her  wheel 

Senseless  themselves  shall  prove ;  venter  hath  place 
in  love, — 

Ask  them  that  feel ! 

This  discord,  it  begot  atheists  that  honour  not : 

Nature  thought  good 
Fortune  should  ever  dwell  in  Court,  where  wits  excel, 

Love  keep  the  wood. 

So  to  the  wood  went  I,  with  Love  to  live  and  die, 

Fortune's  Forlorn  : 
Experience  of  my  youth  made  me  think  humble  Truth 

In  desert  born. 


DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 


My  Saint  I  keep  to  me,  —  and  Joan  herself  is  she, 

Joan  fair  and  true  : 
Joan,  she  doth  only  move  passion  of  love  with  love. 

Fortune  !  adieu  !     . 

FINIS,    E.  O. 


I 


HIS  LADY'S   GRIEF 

SAW  my  Lady  weep, 

And  Sorrow  proud  to  be  advanced  so 
In  those  fair  eyes  where  all  perfections  keep. 

Her  face  was  full  of  woe  : 
But  such  a  woe,  believe  !  as  wins  more  hearts 
Than  Mirth  can  do  with  her  enticing  parts. 

Sorrow  was  there  made  fair, 

And  passion  wise,  tears  a  delightful  thing, 
Silence  beyond  all  speech  a  wisdom  rare  ; 

She  made  her  sighs  to  sing, 
And  all  things  with  so  sweet  a  sadness  move 
As  made  my  heart  at  once  both  grieve  and  love. 

O,  Fairer  than  aught  else 

The  world  can  show,  leave  off  in  time  to  grieve  ! 

Enough  !  enough  !  your  joyful  look  excels  : 

Tears  kill  the  heart,  believe  ! 
O  strive  not  to  be  excellent  in  woe, 
Which  only  breeds  your  beauty's  overthrow  ! 


IQ2  DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 


SONG    OF  HOPE 

DIE  NOT  before  thy  day,  poor  man  condemn'd  ! 
But  lift  thy  low  looks  from  the  humble  earth  : 
Kiss  not  Despair,  nor  see  sweet  Hope  contemn'd ; 
The  hag  hath  no  delight,  but  moan  for  mirth. 
O,  fie  !  poor  fondling,  fie  !  be  willing 
To  preserve  thyself  from  killing  ! 
Hope,  thy  keeper,  glad  to  free  thee, 
Bids  thee  go,  and  will  not  see  thee. 
Hie  thee  quickly  from  thy  wrong  ! — 
So  she  ends  her  willing  song. 

WOEFUL   HEART 

WOEFUL  HEART,  with  grief  oppressed  ! 
Since  my  fortunes  most  distressed 

From  my  joys  have  me  removed, 
Follow  those  sweet  eyes  adored, 
Those  sweet  eyes  wherein  are  stored 
All  my  pleasures  best  beloved  ! 

Fly  my  breast  —  leave  me  forsaken  — 
Wherein  Grief  his  seat  hath  taken, 

All  his  arrows  through  me  darting  ! 
Thou  mayst  live  by  her  sun-shining : 
I  shall  suffer  no  more  pining 

By  thy  loss  than  by  her  parting. 


DOWLAND'S    SONG   BOOKS  193 


HIS  MISTRESS'   BEAUTY 

T   MUST  complain,  yet  do  enjoy  my  Love  : 
•*    She  is  too  fair,  too  rich  in  beauty's  parts. 
Thence  is  my  grief:  for  Nature,  while  she  strove 

With  all  her  graces  and  divinest  arts 
To  form  her  too  too  beautiful  of  hue, 
She  had  no  leisure  left  to  make  her  true. 

Should  I  aggrieved  then  wish  she  were  less  fair? 

That  were  repugnant  to  my  own  desires. 
She  is  admired ;  new  suitors  still  repair 

That  kindle  daily  Love's  forgetful  fires. 
Rest,  jealous  thoughts  !  and  thus  resolve  at  last : 
She  hath  more  beauty  than  becomes  the  chaste. 


B 


LOVE  AND  FOLLY 

EHOLD  a  wonder  here  ! 
Love  hath  received  his  sight : 
Which  many  hundred  year 
Hath  not  beheld  the  light. 


Such  beams  infused  be 
By  Cynthia  in  his  eyes, 

As  first  have  made  him  see, 

And  then  have  made  him  wise. 

Love  now  no  more  will  weep 
For  them  that  laugh  the  while, 

Nor  wake  for  them  that  sleep, 
Nor  sigh  for  them  that  smile. 


1 94  DOWLAND'S    SONG    BOOKS 

So  powerful  is  the  Beauty 
That  Love  doth  now  behold, 

As  Love  is  turn'd  to  Duty, 
That 's  neither  blind  nor  bold. 

Thus  Beauty  shows  her  might 
To  be  of  double  kind  : 

In  giving  Love  his  sight, 
And  striking  Folly  blind. 


F 


THE  PEDLAR'S  SONG 

INE  knacks  for  ladies,  cheap,  choice,  brave,  and  new, 
Good  pennyworths, —  but  money  can  not  move  : 
I  keep  a  fair  but  for  the  Fair  to  view, — 

A  beggar  may  be  liberal  in  love. 
Though  all  my  wares  be  trash,  the  heart  is  true  : 

The  heart  is  true. 

Great  gifts  are  guiles  and  look  for  gifts  again  ; 

My  trifles  come  as  treasures  from  my  mind  : 
It  is  a  precious  jewel, —  to  be  plain  : 

Sometimes  in  shells  the  orient  pearls  we  find. — 
Of  others  take  a  sheaf,  of  me  a  grain  ! 

Of  me  a  grain. 

Within  this  pack  are  pins,  points,  laces,  gloves, 
And  divers  toys  fitting  a  country  Fair ; 

But  my  heart,  wherein  duty  serves  and  loves  — 
Turtles  and  twins,  courts  brood,  a  heavenly  pair. 

Happy  the  heart  that  thinks  of  no  remove  ! 

Of  no  remove. 


teT  \Ja  IA//CA  -Li  jJ-^^^OkAJTy.  j4r.lVx^  A-^dLLLj  Jfej 
FROM   MORLEY'S   BALLETS   AND   MADRIGALS 

DEFIANCE   TO  LOVE 

O  HOOT,  FALSE  LOVE  !   I  care  not : 

^-J  Spend  thy  shafts  and  spare  not !     Fa  la  la  ! 

I  fear  not,  I,  thy  might, 

And  less  I  weigh  thy  spite ; 

All  naked  I  unarm  me, — 

If  thou  canst,  now  shoot  and  harm  me  ! 

So  lightly  I  esteem  thee 

As  now  a  child  I  deem  thee. 

Fa  la  la  la  ! 

Long  thy  bow  did  fear  me, 

While  thy  pomp  did  blear  me  :       Fa  la  la  ! 

But  now  I  do  perceive 

Thy  art  is  to  deceive  ; 

And  every  simple  lover 

All  thy  falsehood  can  discover. 

Then  weep,  Love  !  and  be  sorry, 

For  thou  hast  lost  thy  glory. 

Fa  la  la  la  ! 

MY  DAINTY  DARLING 

WHAT  saith  my  Dainty  Darling? 
Shall  I  now  your  love  obtain  ? 
Long  time  I  sued  for  grace, 

And  grace  you  granted  me 
"  When  time  should  serve  and  place." 
Can  any  fitter  be  ? 


196  MADRIGALS 


This  crystal  running  fountain 

In  his  language  saith  —  Come,  love  ! 

The  birds,  the  trees,  the  fields, — 

Else  none  can  us  behold  ; 
This  bank  soft  lying  yields, 
And  saith  —  Nice  fools  !  be  bold. 

Fa  la  la  la  ! 

FALSE   CLARINDA 

PHI  LIST  US'1  FAREWELL 

/"CLARINDA  false  !  adieu  !  thy  love  torments  me  : 
^-^Let  Thirsis  have  thy  heart,  since  he  contents  thee. 
O  grief  and  bitter  anguish  ! 
For  thee  I  languish  : 
Fain  I,  alas  !  would  hide  it : 
O,  but  who  can  abide  it  ? 
Adieu,  adieu,  adieu  then  ! 

Farewell ! 

Leave  me  !  my  death  now  desiring, 
Thou  hast,  lo  !  thy  requiring. — 
So  spake  Philistus  on  his  hook  relying, 
And  sweetly  fell  a-dying. 

Since  my  tears  and  lamenting, 
False  Love  !  bred  thy  contenting, 
Still  thus  to  weep  for  ever 
These  fountains  shall  persever, 
Till  my  heart,  grief  brim-filled, 
Out,  alas  !  be  distilled. — 
So  spake  he  on  his  hook  relying, 
And  sweetly  fell  a-dying. 


MADRIGALS 


FALSE  DORUS 

T  N  dew  of  roses  steeping 
-*-  Her  lovely  cheeks,  Lycoris  sat  a- weeping  : — 
Ah,  Dorus  false  !  thou  hast  my  heart  bereft  me, 
And  now,  unkind,  hast  left  me. 
Hear,  alas,  O  hear  me  ! 
Ay  me,  ay  me, 

Can  not  my  beauty  move  thee  ? 
Pity  then,  pity  me 
Because  I  love  thee  ! 

Ay  me,  thou  scorn'st  the  more  I  pray  thee  ; 
And  this  thou  dost  to  slay  me. 
Ah,  do  then,  do,  kill  me  and  vaunt  thee  ! 
Yet  my  ghost  still  shall  haunt  thee. 

FROM   WILBYE'S   MADRIGALS 
DAPHNE 

f   SANG  sometimes  my  thoughts  and  fancies'  pleasure. 
•*-   Where  then  I  list,  or  time  served  best  and  leisure  : 

While  Daphne  did  invite  me 
To  supper  once,  and  drank  to  me  to  spite  me. 

I  smiled,  yet  still  did  doubt  her, 
And  drank  where  she  had  drunk  before,  to  flout  her. 

But  O,  while  I  did  eye  her, 
Mine  eyes  drank  love,  my  lips  drank  burning  fire. 


198  MADRIGALS 


T 


THE    JEWEL 

HERE  is  a  jewel  which  no  Indian  mine  can  buy, 

No  chemic  art  can  counterfeit  : 
It  makes  men  rich  in  greatest  poverty, 
Makes  water  wine,  turns  wooden  cups  to  gold, 
The  homely  whistle  to  sweet  music's  strain  : 
Seldom  it  comes,  to  few  from  heaven  sent, 
That  much  in  little,  all  in  nought, —  Content. 

LIPS  AND  ROSES 

T    ADY  !  when  I  behold  the  roses  sprouting,     ^ 
-* — '  Which  clad  in  damask  mantles  deck  the  arbours, 
And  then  behold  your  lips  where  sweet  love  harbours, 

My  eyes  present  me  with  a  double  doubting : 
For,  viewing  both  alike,  hardly  my  mind  supposes 
Whether  the  roses  be  your  lips  or  your  lips  be  the  roses. 

COME,    SHEPHERD   SWAINS! 

COME,  shepherd  swains  that  wont  to  hear  me  sing  ! 
Now  sigh  and  groan  ! 
Dead  is  my  Love,  my  Hope,  my  Joy,  my  Spring : 

Dead,  dead,  and  gone. 
O,  She  that  was  your  summers'  queen, 

Your  days'  delight, 
Is  gone,  and  will  no  more  be  seen  : 

O  cruel  spite  ! 

Break  all  your  pipes  that  wont  to  sound 
With  pleasant  cheer, 


MADRIGALS  199 


And  cast  yourselves  upon  the  ground, 

To  wail  my  Dear  ! 
Come,  shepherd  swains  !  come,  nymphs  !  and  all  a-row, 

To  help  me  cry  : 
Dead  is  my  Love ;  and,  seeing  She  is  so, 

Lo  !  now  I  die. 

LOVE  ME  NOT  FOR    COMELY   GRACE 

T    OVE  ME  not  for  comely  grace, 
* — '     For  my  pleasing  eye  or  face, 

Nor  for  any  outward  part ; 

No  !  nor  for  my  constant  heart  ! 
For  these  may  fail,  or  turn  to  ill : 

So  thou  and  I  shall  sever. 
Keep  therefore  a  true  woman's  eye, 
And  love  me  well,  yet  know  not  why  ! 
So  hast  thou  the  same  reason  still 
To  doat  upon  me  ever. 


T^vRAW  on,  sweet  Night !  best  friend  unto  those  cares 
J — '  That  do  arise  from  painful  melancholy  : 
My  life  so  ill  through  want  of  comfort  fares, 
That  unto  thee  I  consecrate  it  wholly. 

Sweet  Night !  draw  on  :  my  griefs,  when  they  be  told 
To  shades  and  darkness,  find  some  ease  from  paining ; 
And  while  thou  all  in  silence  dost  infold, 
I  then  shall  have  best  time  for  my  complaining. 


2OO      -  MADRIGALS 


FROM    WEELKES'   BALLETS   AND   MADRIGALS 
THIRSIS 

UPON  A  HILL  the  bonny  boy, 
Sweet  Thirsis,  sweetly  play'd, 
And  call'd  his  lambs  their  master's  joy ; 

And  more  he  would  have  said, 
But  love,  that  gives  the  lover  wings, 
Withdrew  his  mind  from  other  things. 

His  pipe  and  he  could  not  agree, 

For  Milla  was  his  note  : 
The  silly  pipe  could  never  get 

This  lovely  name  by  rote. 
With  that  they  both  fell  on  a  sound  : 
He  fell  asleep,  his  pipe  to  ground. 

SPRING   SONG 

T  N  pride  of  May 
*     The  fields  are  gay, 
The  birds  do.  sweetly  sing : 
So  Nature  would 
That  all  things  should 
With  joy  begin  the  Spring. 

Then,  Lady  dear ! 

Do  you  appear 
In  beauty,  like  the  Spring  ! 

I  well  dare  say 

The  birds  that  day 
More  cheerfully  will  sing. 


MADRIGALS  2OI 


HOLD   OUT,   MY  HEART! 

HOLD  out,  my  heart !  with  joy's  delights  accloy'd, 
Hold  out,  my  heart !  and  show  it, 
That  all  the  world  may  know  it, 
What  sweet  content  thou  lately  hast  enjoy'd. 
She  that  "  Come,  Dear  !  "  would  say, 
Then  laugh,  and  smile,  and  run  away, 
And  if  I  stay'd  her  would  cry  "  Nay  ! 

Fie  !  for  shame  !  fie  !  " 
My  true  love  not  regarding, 
Hath  given  me  at  length  his  full  rewarding : 
So  that,  unless  I  tell 

The  joys  that  overfill  me, 
My  joys  kept  in  —  full  well 
I  know  —  will  kill  me. 


FROM    FARMER'S   ENGLISH   MADRIGALS 
TIME  NOT  TO  BE  LOST 

HPAKE  time  while  time  doth  last ! 
•*•  Mark  how  fair  fadeth  fast ! 
Beware,  beware  if  Envy  reign  ! 
Beware,  take  heed  of  proud  disdain  ! 
Hold  fast  now  in  thy  youth, — 
Now  regard  thy  vowed  truth, — 
Lest  when  thou  waxeth  old 
Friends  fail  and  love  grow  cold  ! 


2O2  MADRIGALS 


THE   COY  MAIDEN'S   CONSENT 

OSTAY,  sweet  Love  !  see  here  the  place  of  sporting ; 
These  gentle  flowers  smile  sweetly  to  invite  us  ; 
And  chirping  birds  are  hitherwards  resorting, 

Warbling  their  sweet  notes  only  to  delight  us  : 
Then  stay,  dear  Love  !  for  though  thou  run  from  me, 
Run  ne'er  so  fast,  yet  I  will  follow  thee. 

I  thought,  my  Love  !  that  I  should  overtake  you  : 
Sweetheart !  sit  down  under  this  shadow'd  tree  ; 
And  I  will  promise  never  to  forsake  you, 

So  you  will  grant  to  me  a  lover's  fee. 
Whereat  She  smiled,  and  kindly  to  me  said  — 
"  I  never  meant  to  live  and  die  a  maid." 

FAIR  PHILLIS 

T^AIR  PHILLIS  I  saw  sitting  all  alone, 
•*•    Feeding  her  flock  near  to  the  mountain  side  : 
The  shepherds  knew  not  whither  she  was  gone, 

But  after  her  her  Love,  Amyntas,  hied. 
He  wander'd  up  and  down  whilst  she  was  missing : 
When  he  found  her,  then  they  fell  a-kissing. 


MADRIGALS  203 


FROM   BATESON'S   MADRIGALS 

SISTER,   AWAKE! 

O ISTER,  AWAKE  !  close  not  your  eyes  ! 
^— '      The  day  its  light  discloses  : 
And  the  bright  Morning  doth  arise 
Out  of  her  bed  of  roses. 

See  !  the  clear  Sun,  the  world's  bright  eye, 

In  at  our  window  peeping  ! 
Lo,  how  he  blusheth  to  espy 

Us  idle  wenches  sleeping. 

Therefore  awake  !  make  haste  !  I  say ; 

And  let  us,  without  staying, 
All  in  our  gowns  of  green  so  gay 

Into  the  park  a-maying. 

WHITHER   SO  FAST? 

T  A  THITHER  so  fast  ?   Ah,  see  !  the  kindly  flowers 
V    »    Perfume  the  air,  and  all  to  make  thee  stay : 
The  climbing  woodbine,  clipping  all  these  bowers, 
Clips  thee  likewise,  for  fear  thou  pass  away  : 
Fortune  our  friend,  our  foe  will  not  gainsay. 
Stay  but  awhile  !  Phoebe  no  tell-tale  is  : 
She  her  Endymion,  I  '11  my  Phcebe  kiss. 


FROM   FORDE'S   MUSIC   OF   SUNDRY   KINDS 
LOVE  TILL  DEATH 

r~pHERE  IS  a  Lady,  sweet  and  kind,— 
•I-  Was  never  face  so  pleased  my  mind  ! 
I  did  but  see  her  passing  by, 
And  yet  I  love  her  till  I  die. 

Her  gesture,  motion,  and  her  smiles, 
Her  wit,  her  voice,  my  heart  beguiles  : 
Beguiles  my  heart,  I  know  not  why  : 
And  yet  I  love  her  till  I  die. 

Her  free  behaviour,  winning  looks, 
Will  make  a  lawyer  burn  his  books  : 
I  touch'd  her  not, —  alas  !  not  I : 
And  yet  I  love  her  till  I  die. 

Had  I  her  fast  betwixt  my  arms, — 

Judge,  you  that  think  such  sports  were  harms  ! 

Were  't  any  harm  ?     No,  no  !  fie,  fie  ! 

For  I  will  love  her  till  I  die. 

Should  I  remain  confined  there 
So  long  as  Phoebus  in  his  sphere, 
I  to  request,  she  to  deny, 
Yet  would  I  love  her  till  I  die. 

Cupid  is  winged,  and  doth  range 
Her  country, —  so  my  Love  doth  change  : 
But  change  the  earth  or  change  the  sky, 
Yet  will  I  love  her  till  I  die. 


FORDE  205 


A  MISTRESS  DESCRIBED 

T_T  OW  shall  I  then  describe  my  Love  ? 
•*•  *•     When  all  men's  skilful  art 
Is  far  inferior  to  her  worth, 

To  praise  the  umvorthiest  part. 

She 's  chaste  in  looks,  mild  in  her  speech, 

In  actions  all  discreet, 
Of  nature  loving,  pleasing  most, 

In  virtue  all  complete. 

And  for  her  voice  a  Philomel, 

Her  lips  may  all  lips  scorn ; 

No  sun  more  clear  than  is  her  eye, 
In  brightest  summer  morn. 

A  mind  wherein  all  virtues  rest 

And  take  delight  to  be, 
And  where  all  virtues  graft  themselves 

In  that  most  fruitful  tree  : 

A  tree  that  India  doth  not  yield,  . . 

Nor  ever  yet  was  seen, 
Where  buds  of  virtue  always  spring, 

And  all  the  year  grow  green. 

That  country 's  blest  wherein  she  grows, 

And  happy  is  that  rock 
From  whence  she  springs  :  but  happiest  he 

That  grafts  in  such  a  stock. 


2O6  FORDE 


SINCE  FIRST  I  SAW   YOUR  FACE 

O INCE  FIRST  I  saw  your  face  I  resolved 
^-^       To  honour  and  renown  you  : 
If  now  I  be  disdain'd,  I  wish 

My  heart  had  never  known  you. 
What,  I  that  loved  and  you  that  liked, 

Shall  we  begin  to  wrangle  ? 
No,  no,  no  !  my  heart  is  fast, 
And  can  not  disentangle. 

If  I  admire  or  praise  you  too  much, 

That  fault  you  may  forgive  me  ; 
Or  if  my  hands  had  stray'd  to  touch, 

Then  justly  might  you  leave  me. 
I  ask'd  your  leave,  you  bade  me  love : 

Is  't  now  a  time  to  chide  me  ? 
No,  no,  no  !  I  '11  love  you  still, 

What  fortune  e'er  betide  me. 

The  sun,  whose  beams  most  glorious  are, 

Rejecleth  no  beholder ; 
And  your  sweet  beauty,  past  compare, 

Makes  my  poor  eyes  the  bolder. 
Where  beauty  moves,  and  wit  delights, 

And  signs  of  kindness  bind  me, 
There,  O  there,  where'er  I  go, 

I  leave  my  heart  behind  me. 

If  I  have  wrong'd  you,  tell  me  wherein, 
And  I  will  soon  amend  it ; 


CAMPION  2O7 


In  recompense  of  such  a  sin, 

Here  is  my  heart ;—  I  '11  send  it. 

If  that  will  not  your  mercy  move, 
Then  for  my  life  I  care  not. 

Then,  O  then,  torment  me  still, 
And  take  my  life,  and  spare  not ! 


FROM   CAMPION'S   AIRS 

THE  RIGHT  OF  BEAUTY 


IVE  BEAUTY  all  her  right, 
She  's  not  to  one  form  tied  ; 
Each  shape  yields  fair  delight 

Where  her  perfections  bide  : 
Helen,  I  grant,  might  pleasing  be  ; 
And  Rosamund  was  as  sweet  as  'she. 

Some  the  quick  eye  commends, 

Some  swelling  lips  and  red  ; 
Pale  looks  have  many  friends, 

Through  sacred  sweetness  bred  : 
Meadows  have  flowers  that  pleasure  move, 
Though  roses  are  the  flowers  of  Love. 

Free  Beauty  is  not  bound 

To  one  unmoved  clime  ; 
She  visits  every  ground, 

And  favours  every  time  : 
Let  the  old  loves  with  mine  compare, 
My  Sovereign  is  as  sweet  and  fair. 


FROM   DEUTEROMELIA 

THREE  POOR  MARINERS 

WE  be  three  Poor  Mariners, 
Newly  come  from  the  seas  : 
We  spend  our  lives  m  jeopardy 

While  others  live  at  ease  : 

Shall  we  go  dance  the  round,  the  round,  the  round  ? 
Shall  we  go  dance  the  round,  the  round,  the  round  ? 

And  he  that  is  a  bully  boy 
Come  pledge  me  on  this  ground,  aground,  aground  ! 

We  care  not  for  those  martial  men 

That  do  our  states  disdain ; 
But  we  care  for  the  merchant  men, 

Who  do  our  states  maintain  : 
To  them  we  dance  this  round,  around,  around, — 
To  them  we  dance  this  round,  around,  around, — 

And  he  that  is  a  bully  boy 
Come  pledge  me  on  this  ground,  aground,  aground  ! 

FROM   MELISMATA 

THE  THREE  RAVENS 

'  I  ".HERE  were  three  Ravens  sat  on  a  tree, — 
•••     Down-a-down,  hey  down,  hey  down  ! 
There  were  three  Ravens  sat  on  a  tree, — 

With  a  down  ! 

There  were  three  Ravens  sat  on  a  tree, — 
They  were  as  black  as  they  might  be  : 
With  a  down,  derry  deny  derry  down  down  ! 


MELISMATA  2OQ 


The  one  of  them  said  to  his  make  — 
Where  shall  we  our  breakfast  take  ? 

Down  in  yonder  greene  field 

There  lies  a  knight  slain  under  his  shield. 

His  hounds  they  lie  down  at  his  feet : 
So  well  they  their  master  keep. 

His  hawks  they  fly  so  eagerly, 
There  's  no  fowl  dare  him  come  nigh. 

Down  there  comes  a  fallow  doe, 
Great  with  young  as  she  might  go. 

She  lift  up  his  bloody  head, 

And  kist  his  wounds  that  were  so  red. 

She  gat  him  upon  her  back, 
And  carried  him  to  earthen  lake. 

She  buried  him  before  the  prime  ; 
She  was  dead  ere  even-time. 

God  send  every  gentleman 
Such  hounds,  such  hawks,  and  such  leman  ! 
With  a  down,  deny 

FROM   PILKINGTON'S   MADRIGALS 

HAVE  I  FOUND  HER?     O  rich  finding  ! 
Goddess-like  for  to  behold  : 
Her  fair  tresses  seemly  binding 
In  a  chain  of  pearl  and  gold. 
Chain  me,  chain  me,  O  Most  Fair  ! 
Chain  me  to  thee  with  that  hair. 


FROM  ENGLAND'S   HELICON 

PHILLIDA   AND    COR  YD  ON 

PHILLIDA  —  CORYDON  !  arise,  my  Corydon  ! 

Titan  shineth  clear. 
CORYDON  —  Who  is  it  that  calleth  Corydon  ? 

Who  is  it  that  I  hear? 
PHILLIDA  —  Phillida,  thy  true  love,  calleth  thee  : 

Arise  then,  arise  then, 
Arise  and  keep  thy  flock  with  me  ! 
CORYDON  —  Phillida,  my  true  love,  is  it  she  ? 

I  come  then,  I  come  then, 
I  come  and  keep  my  flock  with  thee. 

PHILLIDA  —  Here  are  cherries  ripe,  my  Corydon  ! 

Eat  them  for  my  sake  ! 
CORYDON  —  Here  's  my  oaten  pipe,  my  Lovely  One  ! 

Sport  for  thee  to  make. 
PHILLIDA  —  Here  are  threads,  my  true  love  !  fine  as  silk, 

To  knit  thee,  to  knit  thee 
A  pair  of  stockings  white  as  milk. 
CORYDON  —  Here  are  reeds,  my  true  love  !  fine  and  neat, 

To  make  thee,  to  make  thee 
A  bonnet  to  withstand  the  heat. 

PHILLIDA  —  I  will  gather  flowers,  my  Corydon  ! 

To  set  in  thy  cap. 
CORYDON  —  I  will  gather  pears,  my  Lovely  One  ! 

To  put  in  thy  lap. 


ENGLAND'S    HELICON  211 

PHILLIDA  —  I  will  buy  my  true  love  garters  gay, 

For  Sundays,  for  Sundays, 
To  wear  about  his  legs  so  tall. 
CORYDON  —  I  will  buy  my  true  love  yellow  say, 

For  Sundays,  for  Sundays, 
To  wear  about  her  middle  small. 

PHILLIDA  —  When  my  Corydon  sits  on  a  hill, 

Making  melody, — 
CORYDON  —  When  my  Lovely  One  goes  to  her  wheel, 

Singing  cheerily, — 
PHILLIDA  —  Sure,  methinks,  my  true  love  doth  excel 

For  sweetness,  for  sweetness, 
Our  Pan,  that  old  Arcadian  knight ; 
CORYDON  —  And  methinks  my  true  love  bears  the  bell 

For  clearness,  for  clearness, 
Beyond  the  Nymphs,  that  be  so  bright, 

PHILLIDA  —  Had  my  Corydon,  my  Corydon, 

Been,  alack  !  her  swain, — 
CORYDON  —  Had  my  Lovely  One,  my  Lovely  One, 

Been  in  Ida  plain, — 
PHILLIDA  —  Cynthia  Endymion  had  refused, 

Preferring,  preferring 
My  Corydon  to  play  withal. 
CORYDON  —  The  Queen  of  Love  had  been  excused 

Bequeathing,  bequeathing 
My  Phillida  the  golden  ball. 

PHILLEDA  —  Yonder  comes  my  mother,  Corydon  ! 
Whither  shall  I  fly? 


212  ENGLAND'S  HELICON 

\ 

CORYDON  —  Under  yonder  beech,  my  Lovely  One  ! 

While  she  passeth  by. 
PHILLIDA  —  Say  to  her  thy  true  love  was  not  here  ! 

Remember  !  remember 
To-morrow  is  another  day  ! 
CORYDON  —  Doubt  me  not,  my  true  love  !  do  not  fear 

Farewell  then  !  farewell  then  ! 
Heaven  keep  our  loves  alway  ! 

Ignoto. 

BEAUTY  SAT  BATHING 

TD  EAUTY  sat  bathing  by  a  spring 
-* — '   Where  fairest  shades  did  hide  her : 
The  winds  blew  calm,  the  birds  did  sing, 

The  cool  streams  ran  beside  her : 
My  wanton  thoughts  enticed  mine  eye, 

To  see  what  was  forbidden  ; 
But  better  memory  said  —  Fie  ! 
So  vain  desire  was  chidden. 
Hey  nonnie  !  nonnie  ! 

Into  a  slumber  then  I  fell, 

When  fond  imagination 
Seemed  to  see,  but  could  not  tell 

Her  feature  or  her  fashion. 
But  even  as  babes  in  dreams  do  smile, 

And  sometimes  fall  a-weeping, 
So  I  awaked,  as  wise  this  while 

As  when  I  fell  a-sleeping. 

Hey  nonnie  !  nonnie  ! 

Shepherd  Tonic. 


FROM   DAVISON'S    POETICAL   RHAPSODY 
WHERE  HIS  LADY  KEEPS  HER   HEART 

O  WEET  LOVE,  mine  only  treasure  ! 
* — '  For  service  long  unfeigned, 

Wherein  I  nought  have  gained, 
Vouchsafe  this  little  pleasure  : 
To  tell  me  in  what  part 
My  Lady  keeps  her  heart. 

If  in  her  hair  so  slender, 
Like  golden  nets  entwined 
Which  fire  and  art  have  fined, 
Her  thrall  my  heart  I  render, 
For  ever  to  abide 
With  locks  so  dainty  tied. 

If  in  her  eyes  she  bind  it, 
Wherein  that  fire  was  framed 
By  which  it  was  inflamed, 
I  dare  not  look  to  find  it : 
I  only  wish  it  sight 
To  see  that  pleasant  light. 

But  if  her  breast  have  deigned 
With  kindness  to  receive  it, 
I  am  content  to  leave  it, 
Though  death  thereby  were  gained. 
Then,  Lady  !  take  your  own, 
That  lives  for  you  alone. 

A.  W. 


214  POETICAL    RHAPSODY 


THE   TOMB    OF  DEAD  DESIRE 

WHEN  VENUS  saw  Desire  must  die  — 
Whom  high  Disdain 
Had  justly  slain 

For  killing  Truth  with  scornful  eye, — 
The  earth  she  leaves,  and  gets  her  to  the  sky : 
Her  golden  hair  she  tears  ; 
Black  weeds  of  woe  she  wears  ; 
For  help  unto  her  Father  doth  she  cry : 
Who  bids  her  stay  a  space, 
And  hope  for  better  grace. 

To  save  his  life  she  hath  no  skill : 

Whom  should  she  pray? 
What  do,  or  say, 

But  weep  for  wanting  of  her  will  ? 
Meantime  Desire  hath  ta'en  his  last  farewell, 

And  in  a  meadow  fair, 

To  which  the  Nymphs  repair, 
His  breathless  corse  is  laid  with  worms  to  dwell. 

So  glory  doth  decay 

When  Death  takes  life  away. 

When  morning's  star  had  chased  the  night, 
The  Queen  of  Love 
Look'd  from  above, 
To  see  the  grave  of  her  delight ; 
And  as  with  heedful  eye  she  view'd  the  place, 
She  spied  a  flower  unknown, 
That  on  his  grave  was  grown 


POETICAL    RHAPSODY  215 

Instead  of  learned  verse  his  tomb  to  grace. 

If  you  the  name  require, 
Hearfs-ease,  from  dead  desire. 

A.  W. 

HOPELESS  DESIRE 

SOON   WITHERS  AND    DIES 

HOUGH  naked  trees  seem  dead  to  sight, 
•*•      When  Winter  wind  doth  keenly  blow, 
Yet,  if  the  root  maintain  her  right, 

The  Spring  their  hidden  life  will  show  : 
But  if  the  root  be  dead  and  dry, 
No  marvel  though  the  branches  die. 

While  hope  did  live  within  my  breast, 
No  winter  storm  could  kill  desire  ; 

But  now  disdain  hath  hope  oppress'd 
Dead  is  the  root,  dead  is  the.  spire. 

Hope  was  the  root,  the  spire  was  love  : 

No  sap  beneath,  no  life  above. 

And  as  we  see  the  rootless  stock 
Retain  some  sap,  and  spring  awhile, 

Yet  quickly  prove  a  lifeless  block, 
Because  the  root  doth  life  beguile, — 

So  lives  desire  which  hope  hath  left : 

As  twilight  shines  when  sun  is  reft. 

A.  w. 


2l6  POETICAL    RHAPSODY 

NATURAL    COMPARISONS 

WITH  PERFECT  LOVE 

n^HE  LOWEST  trees  have  tops,  the  ant  her  gall, 
•L  The  fly  her  spleen,  the  little  sparks  their  heat ; 
The  slender  hairs  cast  shadows,  though  but  small ; 
And  bees  have  stings,  although  they  be  not  great ; 
Seas  have  their  source,  and  so  have  shallow  springs  : 
And  love  is  love,  in  beggars  as  in  kings. 

When  rivers  smoothest  run,  deep  are  the  fords  ; 
The  dial  stirs,  yet  none  perceive  it  move  ; 
The  firmest  faith  is  in  the  fewest  words ; 
The  turtles  can  not  sing,  and  yet  they  love  :     . 
True  hearts  have  eyes  and  ears,  no  tongues  to  speak ; 
They  hear  and  see  and  sigh,  and  then  they  break. 

A.  w. 

IN  PRAISE   OF   THE   SUN 

HP  HE  GOLDEN  SUN  that  brings  the  day, 
•*•    And  lends  men  light  to  see  withal, 
In  vain  doth  cast  his  beams  away 
Where  they  are  blind  on  whom  they  fall : 
There  is  no  force  in  all  his  light 
To  give  the  mole  a  perfect  sight. 

But  thou,  my  Sun  !  more  bright  than  he 
That  shines  at  noon  in  summer  tide, 
Hast  given  me  light  and  power  to  see, 
With  perfect  skill  my  sight  to  guide  : 
Till  now  I  lived  as  blind  as  mole 
That  hides  her  head  in  earthly  hole. 


POETICAL    RHAPSODY 


I  heard  the  praise  of  Beauty's  grace, 
Yet  deem'd  it  nought  but  poets'  skill  ; 
I  gazed  on  many  a  lovely  face, 
Yet  found  I  none  to  bind  my  will  : 
Which  made  me  think  that  beauty  bright 
Was  nothing  else  than  red  and  white. 

But  now  thy  beams  have  clear'd  my  sight 
I  blush  to  think  I  was  so  blind  ; 
Thy  flaming  eyes  afford  me  light, 
That  beauty's  blaze  each  where  I  find. 
And  yet  these  Dames  that  shine  so  bright 
Are  but  the  shadow  of  thy  light. 

A.  w. 

BEGGARS'   SONG 

RIGHT  shines  the  sun  :  play,  beggars  !  play 
Here  's  scraps  enough  to  serve  to-day. 

What  noise  of  viols  is  so  sweet 

As  when  our  merry  clappers  ring? 

What  mirth  doth  want  where  beggars  meet  ? 
A  beggar's  life  is  for  a  king  : 

Eat,  drink,  and  play  ;  sleep  when  we  list  ; 

Go  where  we  will,  so  stocks  be  miss'd. 

Bright  shines  the  sun  :  play,  beggars  !  play  ! 

Here  's  scraps  enough  to  serve  to-day. 

The  world  is  ours,  and  ours  alone, 
For  we  alone  have  worlds  at  will  : 

We  purchase  not,  'tis  all  our  own, 

Both  fields  and  streets  we  beggars  fill. 


2l8  POETICAL    RHAPSODY 

Nor  care  to  get,  nor  fear  to  keep, 

Did  ever  break  a  beggar's  sleep. 

Bright  shines  the  sun :  play,  beggars  !  play ! 

Here  's  scraps  enough  to  serve  to-day. 

A  hundred  head  of  black  and  white 
Upon  our  gowns  securely  feed  : 

If  any  dares  his  master  bite, 

He  dies  therefore,  as  sure  as  creed. 

Thus  beggars  lord  it  as  they  please : 

And  only  beggars  live  at  ease. 

Bright  shines  the  sun  :  play,  beggars  !  play  ! 

Here  's  scraps  enough  to  serve  to-day. 

IF   WRONG  BY  FORCE 

T  F  WRONG  by  force  had  Justice  put  to  flight, 
•*•     Yet  were  there  hope  she  might  return  again ; 
If  lawless  War  had  shut  her  up  from  sight, 
Yet  lawful  Peace  might  soon  restore  her  train  : 
But  now,  alas  !  what  hope  of  hope  is  left, 
When  wrongful  Death  hath  her  of  life  bereft  ? 

The  Sun,  that  often  falls,  doth  often  rise ; 
The  Moon,  that  waneth,  waxeth  full  with  light : 
But  he  that  Death  in  chains  of  darkness  ties, 
Can  never  break  the  bands  of  lasting  night. 
What  then  remains  but  tears,  of  loss  to  wail 
In  which  all  hope  of  mortal  help  doth  fail  ? 

In  vain  I  live,  such  sorrow  lives  in  me ; 
In  vain  lives  Sorrow,  since  by  her  I  live : 


POETICAL    RHAPSODY  2IQ 

Life  works  in  vain  where  Death  will  master  be ; 
Death  strives  in  vain  where  Life  doth  virtue  give. 
Thus  each  of  us  would  work  another's  woe, 
And  hurts  himself  in  vain,  and  helps  his  foe. 

Who  then  shall  weep  —  nay,  who  shall  tears  refrain, 
If  common  harms  must  move  the  minds  of  all  ? 
«Too  few  are  found  that  wrongful  hearts  restrain, 
And  of  too  few  too  many  Death  doth  call. 
These  common  harms  I  wail  among  the  rest, 
But  private  loss  denies  to  be  express'd. 


FROM   WIT'S   RECREATIONS 

ON  A  BEAUTIFUL    VIRGIN 

IN  THIS  MARBLE  buried  lies 
•*•    Beauty  may  enrich  the  skies, 
And  add  light  to  Phoebus'  eyes. 

Sweeter  than  Aurora's  air, 
When  she  paints  the  lilies  fair 
And  gilds  cowslips  with  her  hair. 

Chaster  than  the  virgin  Spring, 
Ere  her  blossoms  she  doth  bring, 
Or  cause  Philomel  to  sing. 

If  such  goodness  live  'mongst  men. 
Bring  me  it !  I  shall  know  then 
She  is  come  from  heaven  agen. 


22O  WIT'S    RECREATIONS 

But  if  not,  ye  standers  by  ! 
Cherish  me,  and  say  that  I 
Am  the  next  design'd  to  die. 

ON  CHLOEIS   WALKING  IN  THE  SNOW 


I 


SAW  FAIR  CHLORIS  walk  alone 
When  feather'd  rain  came  softly  down,  — 
Then  Jove  descended  from  his  Tower 
To  court  her  in  a  silver  shower  : 
The  wanton  snow  flew  to  her  breast, 
Like  little  birds  into  their  nest ; 
But  overcome  with  whiteness  there 
For  grief  it  thaw'd  into  a  tear ; 
Then,  falling  down  her  garment  hem, 
To  deck  her,  froze  into  a  gem. 

ON  HIS  MISTRESS 


]W[  Y  LOVE  and  I  for  kisses  play'd, 
-»• '  J-     She  would  keep  stakes,  I  was  content, — 
And  when  I  won  she  would  be  paid : 
This  made  me  ask  her  what  she  meant. 
Saith  she  —  Since  you  are  in  this  wrangling  vein, 
Take  you  your  kisses ;  give  me  mine  again  ! 


FROM  WIT   RESTORED 

PHILLADA 

OH  !   WHAT  a  pain  is  love 
How  shall  I  bear  it? 
She  will  unconstant  prove, 

I  greatly  fear  it. 
She  so  torments  my  mind, 

That  my  strength  faileth, 
And  wavers  with  the  wind 

As  a  ship  saileth  : 
Please  her  the  best  I  may, 
She  loves  still  to  gainsay  : 
Alack  and  well-a-day  ! 

Phillada  flouts  me. 

All  the  fair  yesterday 

She  did  pass  by  me, 
She  look'd  another  way, 

And  would  not  spy  me  : 
I  woo'd  her  for  to  dine, 

But  could  not  get  her ; 
Will  had  her  to  the  wine  — 

He  might  intreat  her. 
With  Daniel  she  did  dance, 
On  me  she  look'd  askance  : 
Oh,  thrice  unhappy  chance  ! 

Phillada  flouts  me. 

Fair  maid  !  be  not  so  coy, 
Do  not  disdain  me  ! 


222  PHILLADA 

I  am  my  mother's  joy  : 

Sweet !  entertain  me  ! 
She  '11  give  me  when  she  dies 

All  that  is  fitting  : 
Her  poultry,  and  her  bees, 

And  her  goose  sitting, 
A  pair  of  mattrass  beds, 
And  a  bag  full  of  shreds  : 
And  yet,  for  all  this  guedes, 

Phillada  flouts  me. 

She  hath  a  clout  of  mine, 

Wrought  with  blue  Coventry, 
Which  she  keeps  for  a  sign 

Of  my  fidelity : 
But,  'faith,  if  she  flinch, 

She  shall  not  wear  it ; 
To  Tib?  my  t'  other  wench, 

I  mean  to  bear  it. 
And  yet  it  grieves  my  heart 
So  soon  from  her  to  part : 
Death  strike  me  with  his  dart ! 

Phillada  flouts  me. 

Thou  shall  eat  crudded  cream 

All  the  year  lasting, 
And  drink  the  crystal  stream 

Pleasant  in  tasting, 
Whig  and  whey  whilst  thou  lust, 

And  ramble-berries, 
Pie-lid  and  pastry  crust, 

Pears,  plums,  and  cherries ; 


PHILLAUA  223 


Thy  raiment  shall  be  thin, 

Made  of  a  weevil's  skin 

Yet  all 's  not  worth  a  pin  : 
Phillada  flouts  me. 

Fair  maiden  !  have  a  care, 

And  in  time  take  me  ! 
I  can  have  those  as  fair, 

If  you  forsake  me  : 
For  Doll  the  dairy  maid 

Laugh'd  at  me  lately, 
And  wanton  Winifred 

Favours  me  greatly. 
One  throws  milk  on  my  clothes, 
T'  other  plays  with  my  nose  : 
What  wanting  signs  are  those  ! 

Phillada  flouts  me. 

I  can  not  work  nor  sleep 

At  all  in  season  : 
Love  wounds  my  heart  so  deep, 

Without  all  reason. 
I  'gin  to  pine  away 

In  my  Love's  shadow, 
Like  as  a  fat  beast  may 

Penn'd  in  a  meadow. 
I  shall  be  dead,  I  fear, 
Within  this  thousand  year  : 
And  all  for  that  my  dear 

Phillada  flouts  me. 


NOTES 


NOTES 


DUNBAR 

UNBAR  begins  the  sixteenth  century :  1503  is  the  date 
J — 'of  The  Thistle  and  the  Rose,  written  on  occasion  of  the 
marriage  of  James  iv  of  Scotland  with  the  English  Princess 
Margaret.  The  Golden  Targe  (printed  at  the  first  Scottish 
Press)  was  written  somewhat  later.  The  two  poems  I  print 
are  undated  :  probably  one  or  both  belonging  to  his  younger 
days.  How  could  these  so  simply  beautiful  lines  on  the  Rue 
have  escaped  the  collectors  ?  Is  there  much  so  fine  through 
all  the  poetic  years  ?  Not  only  to  show  what  antique  spelling 
was,  I  repeat  them  here,  verbatim  et  literatim,  from  Laing's 
edition  of  Dunbar,  1834. 

To  A   LADYE 

SWEIT  Rois  of  vertew  and  of  gentilness, 

Delytsum  Lyllie  of  everie  lustyness, 
Richest  in  bontie,  and  in  bewtie  cleir, 
And  everie  vertew  that  is  held  most  deir 

Except  onlie  that  ye  ar  mercyless. 

Into  your  garthe  this  day  I  did  persew, 
Thair  saw  I  flowris  that  fresche  wer  of  hew  ; 
Baithe  quhite  and  reid  moist  lusty  wer  to  seyne, 
And  halsum  herbis  upon  stalkis  grene  ; 
Yit  leif  nor  flour  fynd  could  I  nane  of  Rew. 


228  NOTES 

I  dout  that  Merche,  with  his  cauld  blast! s  keyne, 
Has  slane  this  gentill  herbe,  that  I  of  mene : 

Quhois  petewous  deithe  dois  to  my  heart  sic  pane, 
That  I  wald  mak  to  plant  his  rute  againe 
So  comfortand  his  levis  unto  me  bene. 

Page  i,  line  4 :  —  Pinkerton,  who  printed  this  in  his  Ancient 
Scottish  Poems,  1786,  has  — 

And  everie  vertew  the  to  hevin  is  deir. 

Garthe  is  garden  ;  I  of  mene — I  moan  for,  or  lament ;  com- 
fortand (a  termination  often  in  old  writings)  —  comforting  ; 
been  —  were,  or  have  been.  This  use  of  been,  as  also  for  are 
and  is  and  be,  is  common  in  early  poetry  :  — 

With  every  thing  that  pretty  bin  —  Shakspere. 
Thy  words  harsh  and  ungracious  been  —  Chapman. 
As  fresh  as  been  the  flowers  —  Peele. 

P.  2  —  ADVICE  TO  LOVERS.  Leir — learn;  perquier — truly, 
says  Laing,  but  it  is  the  French  pourquoi,  Italian  perche, — 
therefore,  wherefore,  reason  why  ;  is  went  —  is  gone,  of  the 
verb  to  wend — to  go  ;  discure  —  discover. 

HEYWOOD 

P.  3  —  A  PRAISE  OF  HIS  LADY.  Out  of  TotteVs  Miscellany, 
1557.  Reprinted  by  Arber,  1870.  Ellis  in  his  Early  English 
Poets  has  the  poem  wanting  the  seventh  stanza.  In  the  line 

She  may  be  well  compared, 

I  hope  I  may  be  forgiven  for  adding  very,  to  help  the  halting 
measure  :  more  likely  the  printer's  than  the  poet's  fault. 

WYATT 

P.  5  —  YEA  OR  NAY.     Boordes,  boards,  or  bourdes,  —  tricks, 
jests.     Here  is  a  specimen  of  bad  punctuation,  from  Ellis:  — 
If  it  be  yea,  I  shall  be  fain  ; 

If  it  be  nay  —  friends  as  before : 
You  shall  another  man  obtain  ; 
And  I,  mine  own ;  and  yours  no  more. 


NOTES  229 

P.  6 —  DISDAIN  ME  NOT  ! 

Forethink  me  not,  to  be  unjust ! 

That  is  —  Do  not  be  unjust  in  thinking  ill  of  me  before  cause 
shown  !  Arber  has  — 

Nor  think  me  not  to  be  unjust ; 
And  Ellis  — 

For  think  me  not  to  be  unjust, 

Both  meaningless  !  Forethink  is  used  by  Donne  ;  Chapman 
has  also  forespeak.  And  foregone,  forewent,  fore/eels. 

But  since  ye  know  what  1  intend. 

Since  is  here  used  for  when,  or  after  :  the  stanza  is  complete. 
Ellis,  with  a  comma  in  place  of  the  full  stop,  alters  the  sense. 
He  also  misprints  the  last  line  of  the  poem  : 

Forsake  me  not  now  for  no  new. 

VAUX 

P.  7  —  DEATH  IN  LIFE.  Given  in  The  Paradise  of  Dainty 
Devices,  1576;  and  Morley's  New  Book  of  Tablature,  1596. 
Reprinted  in  Collier's  Lyrical  Poems,  1844. 

TUSSER 

P.  8  —  This,  from  the  Hundred  Good  Points  of  Husbandry, 
is  in  the  original  entitled  A  Sonnet;  and  may  in  some  sort  be 
considered  such,  if  we  take  it  as  consisting  of  fourteen  verses, 
the  first  twelve  but  divided  into  two  lines  each  to  expose  the 
middle  rhymes.  The  old  printer  in  line  4  for  gift  had  shift, 
destroying  sense  and  rhyme  too  ;  in  line  13  f  or  poor  face  had 
good  face,  also  senseless. 

GRIMAOLD 

P.  9  —  A  TRUE  LOVE.     The  old  reading  of  line  5  is  — 

As  mellow  pears  above  the  crabs  esteemed  be. 

But  surely  the  poet  did  not  emphasize  the;  and  would  mark 
the  contrast  to  mellow  with  some  descriptive  word,  harsh,  or 
other:  though  I  may  not  have  hit  upon  the  right.  In  the  last 
line  but  one  I  dare  to  print  or  for  and. 


23O  NOTES 

GOOGE 
P.  ii  —  To  THE  TUNE  OF  APELLES. 

Her  face  of  crystal  to  the  same. 

So  in  Arber's  Reprint  of  his  Eglogs,  Epitaphes  6^  Sonettes, 
Googe,  1563.  Her /#£•£,  or  eyes  ?  "Crystal  eyes"  was  the 
stock  poetic  simile.  Yet  Watson  has  "  her  crystal  breast." 

P.  12 — ONCE  MUSING  AS  I  SAT.  This  appears  at  first  like 
long  lines  arbitrarily  divided,  each  second  half  (Arber's  copy) 
beginning  without  a  capital.  But  the  division  is  at  the  accent, 
except  in  one  instance,  where  a  comma  enforces  it  at  the  cost 
of  sense  :  the  well-rejoicing  of  the  Fly  being  so  altered  to  the 
well-perceiving  of  the  man.  Sely  —  simple,  guileless,  foolish. 

SIDNEY 

P.  17 — ABSENCE.  In  Ward's  English  Poets,  1880,  part  of 
this  is  given  :  one  stanza  squeamishly  suppressed.  I  will  not 
meet  ill  thought  by  pointing  out  which.  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y 
pense !  Pure  and  manly,  there  is  never  one  word  of  Sidney's 
that  needs  to  be  blotted  out.  One  may  here  also  remark  the 
unfairness,  toward  both  writer  and  reader,  of  giving  only  part 
of  a  short  poem.  It  should  be  all  or  none.  Yet  frequently  in 
collections  we  find  not  even  notice  of  omissions. 

I  offer  no  apology  for  giving  so  much  from  so  true  a  poet, 
characterized  at  once  (as  Grosart  well  observes)  by  "  passion, 
thought,  and  fineness  of  art,"  and  so  neglected  :  out  of  whose 
riches  so  late  a  collector  as  Trench  can  borrow  only  a  couple 
of  sonnets.  Palgrave's  Golden  Treasury,  a  choice  gathering, 
and  assuming  "  to  include  in  it  ALL  THE  BEST  original  lyrical 
pieces  and  songs  in  our  language,"  contains  (notwithstanding 
the  Laureate's  "  advice  and  assistance  ")  TEN  lines  of  Sidney, 
those  incorrectly.  The  lovely  Epithalamium  (here  at  p.  22) 
will  bear  comparison  wiih  the  Epithalamion  and  Prothala- 
mion  of  Spenser,  or  with  Ben  Jonson's  Epithalamion  (p.  61). 
There  is  another  Marriage  Song  of  equal  beauty  by  rare  Ben  : 


NOTES  23 1 

"  Glad  Time  is  at  his  point  arrived,"  to  be  read  in  his  Masque 
of  Hymen.  And  Donne  has  yet  another  of  the  same  sterling 
character:  "The  sunbeams  in  the  East  are  spread."  Four  of 
these  neglected  by  the  excellent  collectors ;  and  of  Spenser's 
two  one  distinctly  rejected  by  Palgrave,  as  "  not  in  harmony 
with  modern  manners." 

My  first  four  Songs  and  first  three  Sonnets  will  be  found 
in  the  A strophel  and  Stella j  the  EPITHALAMIUM,  EPITAPH, 
RURAL  POESY,  and  the  second  Sonnet  on  p.  29,  are  from  the 
Arcadia.  It  is  of  this  last  sonnet  that  Palgrave  gives  part  as 
complete  in  two  five-line  stanzas.  He  perhaps  followed  Ellis, 
who  found  it  in  Puttenham's  contemporaneous  Art  of  Poesy; 
yet  neither  Ellis  nor  Palgrave  is  exact  to  Puttenham.  And  he 
may  have  trusted  to  memory,  or  to  some  musical  miscellany 
where  it  had  been  altered  to  a  song,  to  suit  an  air.  With  few 
differences  of  punctuation,  "Dr.  Grosart's  careful  text  warrants 
me  here,  and  generally  for  Sidney's  writing.  The  exceptions 
are  noted  as  follows. 

P.  16 — THE  MEETING.     In  the  last  stanza  he  has  — 

Leauing  him  to  passion  rent : 

Pp.  17-18  —  ABSENCE. — 

Or  if  I  myself  find  not : 

Fearing  her  beames,  take  with  thee 
(which  places  the  accent  awkwardly  on  her)  : 

O  my  thoughts,  my  thoughts  surcease  ! 

(But  he  himself  observes  that  the  poet  addresses  Thought  as 
"  his  intellectual  part,"  "  a  being  that  has  thoughts,"  —  which 
also  would  require  thy  thoughts,  as  thy  delights  in  next  line) 

Till  thou  shalt  ruined  be, 
(without  comment, —  surely  a  misprint)  : 

P.  21  —  THE  COLLOQUY. — 

More  then  in  thy  reason's  sight : 
No,  the  more  fooles  it  doth  shake 
(which  is  not  the  poet's  sense,  even  if  his  own  writing)  : 


232  NOTES 

P.  25  —  EPITHALAMIUM. — 

But  keeping  whole  your  meane, 

(What  mean  between  peacock  pride  and  sluttery?     Or  would 
Sidney  have  missed  the  regularly  recurring  rhyme  ?)  : 
P.  26.  —  WOOING  STUFF. — 

In  question  ?  nay,  'uds-foot,  she  loves  thee  than. 

{Than  —  then.     I  leave  out  the  useless  ''uds-foot,  doubting  it 
to  be  Sidney's,  also  as  out  of  measure.     Ellis  rejects  it.) 
P.  30  —  His  ANSWER. — 

Deeming  strange  euill  in  that  he  did  not  know. 

Fire  and  sire  (in  desire),  p.  14,  must  be  read  as  dissyllables, 
sometimes  written  fier  and  desier ;  but  means  unless,  in  last 
stanza  of  OPPORTUNITY  ;  destines  is  destinies  ;  minds  (such 
minds  to  nourish,  p.  21)  is  desires,  thoughts,  minded  things  ; 
•louts  —  obeisances,  courtesies  (p.  21);  grant  to  the  thing  is 
grant  the  thing  (p.  23) ;  learn  (p.  26)  has  its  old  meaning  of 
teach  ;  a  sleek-stone  (p.  27)  is  a  stone  used  for  smoothing,  or 
sleeking,  leather  ;  wood  (p.  30),  also  wode,  is  mad. 

WATSON 

P.  31 — ON  SIDNEY'S  DEATH.  Taken  from  Byrd's  Kalian 
Madrigals,  1590.  Collier,  reprinting  it  in  his  Lyrical  Poems, 
for  With  dreary  has  How  with  dryry  ;  for  then,  in  last  line 
but  one,  therefore,  spoiling  the  rhythm  ;  and  greeting,  in  the 
last  line,  to  rhyme  with  weeping.  Since  in  all  Watson's  verse 
I  have  detected  but  one  false  couplet,  and  that  looking  like  a 
misprint,  I  will  not  believe  that  in  eight  lines  on  so  serious  an 
occasion  he  would  have  been  content  with  such  slovenliness. 
I  only  suggest  keeping,  as  at  least  to  the  purpose.  I  doubt 
any  dependence  to  be  placed  on  early  texts,  more  particularly 
referring  now  to  musical  miscellanies.  I  suspect  that  the  old 
musical  editors,  Byrd,  Campion,  and  the  rest  (supposed  or 
known  to  have  sometimes  written  upon  their  own  account), 
cared  very  little,  if  at  all,  for  verbal  exactness,  and  would  not 
hesitate  to  alter  their  poet's  words  to  suit  the  music  :  a  more 


NOTES  233 

tolerable  practice,  I  dare  to  think,  than  mangling  our  old  airs 
to  fit  new  words, —  as  was  done  with  Moore's  Melodies.  But 
then  we  must  disenthrone  these  editors  as  literary  authorities. 
Byrd,  or  Bird,  or  Byrde,  or  Birde,  was  Watson's  associate  in 
the  first  publication  of  Madrigals  with  English  words:  that  is 
to  say,  "  Italian  Madrigals  Englished,  not  to  the  sense  of  the 
originall  dittie,  but  after  the  affection  of  the  noate."  In  which 
collection  are  "  excellent  madrigalls  of  Master  William  Byrds, 
composed  after  the  Italian  vaine  at  the  request  of  the  sayd 
Thomas  Watson." 

Pp.  31-34  —  These  five  "Sonnets"  (so  miscalled,  consisting 
all  of  six-lined  stanzas)  are  from  Watson's  Hekatompathia, 
or  a  "Passionate  Centurie  of  Loue,  diuided  into  two  parts  : 
whereof  the  first  expresseth  the  Author's  sufferance  in  Loue : 
the  latter  his  long  farewell  to  Loue  and  all  his  tyrannic."  1582. 
THE  MAY  QUEEN  is  from  England's  Helicon.  The  Sonnet, 
pp.  35-36,  from  The  Teares  of  Fancie,  or  Loiie  Disdained, 
"  printed  at  London  for  William  Barley,  dwel//;/^  in  Gratious 
streete,  ouer  against  Leaden  Hall,  1593."  Put  not  your  trust 
in  printers  !  This  one  mis-spells  the  name  of  his  own  streete. 
There  was  no  Gratious  streete  in  London  ;  but,  named  from 
the  church  in  it,  Gracechurch  St.  —  over  against  Leaden  Hall. 
Merest  poetic  conceits  as  Watson's  verses  seem  to  me,  when 
compared  with  the  passionate,  heart-welling  poetry  of  Sidney 
(though  Arber,  who  not  inaptly  styles  Watson  "  our  English 
Petrarch,"  would  rank  him  above  Sidney,  next  after  Spenser), 
they  are  worth  notice,  not  only  for  their  rarity,  but  also  for  a 
display  of  very  extensive  book-learning,  and  more  as  perhaps 
the  best  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  Euphuistic  versification 
of  the  period.  Arber's  Reprint  of  the  Tears  of  Fancy,  1870, 
is  "from  an  unique  copy"  owned  by  S.  Christie-Miller,  Esq. 
Each  of  Watson's  hundred  (97  only)  Sonnets,  or  Passions, 
has  for  prefix  a  prose  annotation  :  a  single  example  of  which 
may  suffice  to  show  the  affected,  yet  learned,  quality  of  all. 


234  NOTES 

The  following  explains  the  sonnet  I  call  THE  Kiss,  p.  33:  — 
"  In  this  passion  the  Authour,  being  ioyfull  for  a  kisse,  which 
he  had  receiued  of  his  Loue,  compareth  the  same  vnto  that  kisse, 
which  sometime  Venus  bestowed  vpon  Aesculapius,  for  hauing  ta- 
ken a  Bramble  out  of  her  foote  which  pricked  her  through  the  hid- 
den spitefull  deceyte  of  Diana,  by  whom  it  was  laide  in  her  way, 
—  as  Strozza  writeth.  And  hee  enlargeth  his  inuention  vppon  the 
french  prouerbiall  speech,  which  importeth  thus  much  in  effect, — 
that  three  things  proceed  from  the  mouth,  which  are  to  be  had  in 
high  account,  Breath,  Speech,  and  Kissing; — the  first  argueth  a 
man's  life-,  the  second  his  thought;  the  third  and  last,  his  loue." 

P.  31  —  OF  TIME.  In  Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody  this  has 
been  reduced  to  a  sonnet,  by  throwing  out  four  lines. 

P.  32  —  JEALOUS  OF  GANYMEDE.  Arber  prints  in  the  first 
stanza,  or  "  staff  "  — 

To  which  all  Neighbour,  Saintes  and  Gods  were  calde. 
In  the  third  — 

And  she  once  found  should  neither  will  nor  choose. 

P.  35.  — Randon  is  random ;  blaze,  blazon.  In  Byrd's  Italian 
Madrigals  I  find  the  following  variation  of  the  MAY  QUEEN. 
Was  it  so  changed  to  suit  "  the  affection  of  the  noate"? 

TO  THE  MAY   QUEEN 
This  sweet  and  merrie  month  of  May, 

While  nature  wantons  in  her  pryme, 
And  byrds  do  sing  and  beasts  do  play, 

For  pleasure  of  the  joyfull  time ; 
I  chuse  the  first  for  holly  daie, 

And  greet  Eliza  with  a  ryme. 
O  beauteous  queene  of  second  Troy, 
Take  well  in  worth  a  simple  toy. 

I  may  here  add,  as  farther  sample  of  a  poet  almost  unknown, 
a  fragment  (which  as  such  would  not  come  within  the  limits 
of  my  text)  from  his  "  MKLIBOKUS,  an  Eglogue,"  translated 
by  Watson  from  his  own  Latin  Elegy  written  on  the  death  of 


NOTES  235 

Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  1590.     Spelling  of  Gratious  streete. 
Diana  is  of  course  Queen  Elizabeth. 

.  .  DIANA,  wondrous  mirrour  of  our  daies  ; 

Diana,  matchlesse  Oueene  of  Arcadie; 
Diana  whose  surpassing  beauties  praise         "V 

improus  hir  worth  past  terrene  deitie ;     — ^ 
Diana,  Sibill  for  hir  secret  skill ; 

Diana,  pieties  chief  earthlie  friend; 
Diana,  holie  both  in  deede  and  will ; 

Diana,  whose  iust  praises  haue  no  end. 
Ah  but  my  Muse,  that  creeps  but  on  the  ground, 

begins  to  tremble  at  my  great  presume, 
For  naming  hir,  whose  titles  onelie  sound 

doth  glad  the  welkin  with  a  sweet  perfume. 
For  in  hir  minde  so  manie  vertues  dwell 

as  eurie  moment  breed  new  pieties  : 
Yet  all  in  one  coioind  doe  all  excell, 

and  crowne  hir  worth  with  sundrie  deities. 
But  that  vnwares  my  sorie  stile  proceeds 

drad  Cynthia  pardon :  loue  desires  dispense  : 
As  Joves  high  Oaks  orelook  Pans  slender  reeds, 

so  boue  all  praising  flies  thine  excellence. 
Yet  lest  my  homespun  verse  obscure  hir  worth, 

sweet  Spencer  let  me  leaue  this  taske  to  thee, 
Whose  neuerstooping  quill  can  best  set  forth 

such  things  of  state,  as  passe  my  Muse,  and  me. 
Thou  Spencer  art  the  alderliefest  swaine, 

or  haply  if  that  word  be  all  to  base, 
Thou  art  Apollo  whose  sweet  hunnie  vaine 

amongst  the  Muses  hath  a  chiefest  place. 
Therefore  in  fulnes  of  thy  duties  loue, 

calme  thou  the  tempest  of  Dianaes  brest, 
Whilst  shee  for  Meliboeus  late  remoue 

afflicts  hir  mind  with  ouerlong  vnrest. 


236  NOTES 

MUNDAY 

P.  36 — The  DIRGE  out  of  an  old  play,  The  Death  of  Robert 
Earl  of  Huntingdon,  the  joint  production  of  Henry  Chettle 
and  Anthony  Munday :  Munday's  authorship  of  these  lines  is 
therefore  not  quite  certain.  The  play  is  reprinted  in  the  1874 
edition  (W.  C.  Hazlitt's)  of  Dodsley's  Old  Plays. 

PEELE 

Pp.  37,  38  —  These  two  songs  are  from  The  Arraignment  of 
Paris,  a  "pastoral  "  performed  before  Q.  Elizabeth  in  1584. 

GREENE 

Pp.  39-45 — The  Eclogue,  MENAPHON'S  ROUNDELAY  and 
SONG,  are  out  of  his  Menaphon,  afterwards  called  Arcadia; 
INFIDA'S  SONG  from  Never  too  late;  SWEET  CONTENT  from 
his  Farewell  to  Folly.  Line  7  of  DORON  AND  CARMELA  is 
corrected  by  Dyce  to  — 

Thine  eyes  are  like  the  glowworms  : 

but  the  whole  Eclogue  is  burlesque,  and  not  to  be  reconciled 
with  common  sense. 
P.  41  —  iNFiol's  SONG.     The  burden  Englished  thus  :  — 

Sweet  Adon  !  darest  not  glance  thine  eye  — 

Will  you  not  dare  ?  my  pretty  friend ! 
Upon  thy  Venus  that  must  die  ? 
I  pray  you,  let  your  scorn  have  end !    (pity  me !) 

Will  you  not  dare  ?  my  fair  !  my  fair ! 

Will  you  not  dare  ?  my  pretty  friend  ! 

I  have  accented  prie,  since  it  must  be  read  as  if  two  syllables 
(pri-e) :  the  usual  French  poetic  measure,  used  by  Chaucer 
and  other  early  English  writers,  probably  the  original  of  the 
later  a  at  the  end  of  a  line,  as  in  — 

Your  sad  heart  tires  in  a  mile-a. 

P.  44 — SWEET  CONTENT.  Although  since  deciding  on  my 
selection,  I  find  this  in  Ward's  English  Poets,  latest  and  best 
of  our  anthologies,  I  retain  it,  because  I  think  I  detect  errour 
in  one  line  as  there  printed  (as  it  is  also  printed  by  Dyce)  :  — 


NOTES  237 

The  sweet  consort  of  mirth  and  music's  fare. 

What  is  there  peculiar  to  an  obscure  life  in  the  consorting  of 
mirth  and  music  ?  And  what  may  be  imisic's  fare  ?  Mirth 
and  modest  fare  are  noticeable  consorts,  if  modest  be  not  the 
word  Greene  wrote.  I  think  he  did  not  write  music's;  while 
he  might  have  left  the  second  stanza  in  the  unreadable  shape 
his  editors  allow  it  to  preserve,  thus  : — 

The  homely  house  that  harbours  quiet  rest ; 
The  cottage  that  affords  no  pride  nor  care ; 

The  mean  that  'grees  with  country  music  best ; 
The  sweet  consort  of  mirth  and  music's  fare ; 

Obscured  life  sets  down  a  type  of  bliss  : 

A  mind  content  both  crown  and  kingdom  is. 

Ward's  English  Poets  —  vol.  i,  p.  409. 

A  not  unfair  specimen  this  of  the  ease  with  which  an  author's 
meaning  can  be  obscured  by  only  wrong  punctuation.  Dyce 
prints  these  lines  in  an  equally  unsatisfactory  manner,  except 
that  he  alters  a  type  to  as  type,  so  helping  toward  the  sense  ; 
while  Ellis  keeps  the  obscuring  a,  and  destroys  sense  with  a 
full  stop  after  fare.  I  prefer  the  mean  agrees  (that  under- 
stood —  no  unusual  construction)  to  the  mean  that  'grees. 

DRAYTON 

Pp.  46-50  —  WHAT  LOVE  is,  ROWLAND'S  ROUNDELAY, 
and  the  SONG  OF  MOTTO  AND  PERKIN,  are  in  his  Eclogues. 
In  my  copy  (edition  1619),  p.  46,  line  4,  ceaseth  is  printed  for 
seizethj  p.  49,  line  14,  breath  is  repeated,  carelessness  of  poet 
or  printer.  Make,  p.  47,  line  3,  means  mate,  often  so  used  in 
old  poems  ;  p.  50,  stervM  is  starved,  clip  is  clasp. 

DAVIES 

Not  Sir  John  Davies,  but  plain  John  Davies,  writing-master, 
of  Hereford,  "  the  greatest  Master  of  the  Pen  that  England  in 
her  age  beheld,"  says  Fuller;  as  a  poet  not  without  esteem  of 
his  great  contemporaries,  yet  of  whose  existence  I  obtain  no 
trace  in  the  anthologies.  Even  Ward,  1880,  has  ignored  him, 
though  two  quarto  volumes  of  navies'1  Poetical  Works  were 


238  NOTES 

published  in  1878,  rescued  from  oblivion  by  the  indefatigable 
Dr.  Grosart.  To  me,  as  to  Dr.  Grosart,  "  Wotton  is  thin  and 
feeble  beside  these  finely  woven  lines" — his  PICTURE  OF  AN 
HAPPY  MAN,  "  albeit  How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught  has 
secured  its  place  in  our  literature."  Davies'  poem  appears  in 
the  Rights  of  the  Living  and  the  Dead,  put  as  Appendix  to 
his  Muse's  Sacrifice,  printed  in  1612  ;  Wotton's  may  be  dated 
at  least  two  years  later. 

His  principal  works  are  Microcosmos,  Humours  Hearfn  on 
Earth  (in  which  is  a  Dantesque  Picttire  of  the  Plague,  that 
of  1603),  Wine's  Pilgrimage,  The  Scourge  of  Folly  —  for  the 
most  part  satyrical  epigrams,  and  The  Muse's  Sacrifice  or 
Divine  Meditations.  ' 

P.  51,  line  II  — squire  is  old  French  esquierre,  a  carpenter's 
square  ;  p.  52,  line  14,  moe  or  mo  —  more  (old  usage,  held  to 
now  in  parts  of  America). 

P.  54 —  IN  PRAISE  OF  Music.     Davies'  heading  is  — 
"  To  the  Lady  Wroth  :  in  the  deserved  praise  of  heavenly 

musick,  resembling  it  to  God  himselfe." 
Am  I  too  venturesome,  altering  Grosart's  joyfiil  to  joyless  in 

The  lively  death  of  joyful  thoughts  ? 
Lively  —  life-like,  living. 

P.  55  —  AN  HELLESPONT  OF  CREAM  :  by  master  Davies 
thus  prefaced : — 

—  "  The  Author  loving  these  homely  meates  specially  viz., 
Creame,  pancakes,  butterd  pippin-pies  (laugh  good  people) 
and  tobacco;  writ  to  that  worthy  and  vertuous  gentlewoman 
whom  he  calls  mistrisse,  as  followeth." 

NASH 

P.  56  —  FAIR  SUMMER.  Sung  in  Summer's  Last  IVill  and 
Testament :  Dodsley's  Old  Plays.  Hazlitt  (W.  C.)  gives  in 
the  first  stanza  Go  not  yet  away,  and  Co  not  yet  hence  in  the 

second. 

MARKHAM 

P.  57  —  SIMPLES.     From  a  play  by  Markham  and  Sampson, 


NOTES  239 

therefore  given  to  Markham  with  some  doubt.  But  Gervase, 
or  (as  he  signs  his  name)  Jervis  Markham  deserves  especial 
remembrance  for  his  "Tragedy"  of  Sir  Richard  Grenville, 
a  full  and  particular  account  of  that  most  daring  of  sea-fights, 
Grenville's  action  off  Florez,  in  1591  :  written  in  174  stanzas 
of  eight  lines,  not  without  poetic  merit,  however  overwrought 
and  high-flown.  A  brief  extract  may  show  its  form. 

When  Grinuile  saw  his  desperate  drierie  case  ; 

Gallants  (he  saith)  since  three  a  clock  last  noone, 
Vntill  this  morning,  fifteene  houres  by  course, 
We  haue  maintaind  stoute  warre,  and  still  vndoone 
Our  foes  assaults,  and  driue  them  to  the  worse. 
Fifteene  Armados  boardings  haue  not  wonne 
Content  or  ease,  but  beene  repeld  by  force, 
Eight  hundred  cannon  shot  against  our  side 
Haue  not  our  harts  in  coward  colours  died. 

Not  fifteene  thousand  men  araungd  in  fight 
And  fifteene  howers  lent  them  to  atehiue, 
With  fifty  three  great  ships  of  boundlesse  might 
Haue  had  no  meanes  or  prowesse  to  contriue 
The  fall  of  one,  which  mayden  vertue  dight 
Kept  in  despight  of  Spanish  force  aliue. 

Then  list  to  mee  you  imps  of  memorie ; 

Borne  to  assume  to  immortalitie. 

DONNE 

Pp.  58-60 —  Campbell  chose  the  BREAK  OF  DAY,  sufficient 
imprimatur,  one  would  think,  and  assurance  against  neglect 
by  later  collectors  ;  Emerson  disinterred  the  UNDERTAKING. 
its  theme  perhaps  too  exalted  for  general  appreciation  ;  every 
one  has  missed  the  FUNERAL.  Cramped  as  these  songs  are 
by  Donne's  quaint  pedantry,  they  are  true  poetry.  With  all 
his  faults,  Donne  stands  above  the  crowd  in  our  anthologies. 


24O  NOTE'S 

JONSON 

Pp.  61-79  —  The  EPITHALAMION  is  the  close  of  a  Masque 
"on  occasion  of  Lord  Haddington's  marriage  at  Court,  on  the 
Shrove  Tuesday  at  night,"  1608.  IF  I  FREELY  is  in  the  play 
of  The  Poetaster;  HER  MAN,  "  described  by  her  own  dicta- 
men,"  IN  THE  PERSON  OF  WOMANKIND  —  a  song  apologetic, 
BEGGING  ANOTHER,  and  His  EXCUSE  FOR  LOVING,  are  all 
from  his  collection  of  poems  called  Underwoods,  the  neglect 
of  which  is  specially  noticed,  but  is  not  revenged,  by  Trench. 
In  the  person  of  Womankind  is  given  by  Campbell.  Note 
what  a  full  Shaksperian  flavour  is  in  the  SATYRS'  SONG,  from 
Oberon!  What  song  but  Ariel's  will  dare  to  match  with  it? 
HER  GLOVE,  sometimes  called  The  Glove  of  the  Dead  Lady, 
is  from  the  play  of  Cynthia's  Revels.  Here  —  lines  5,  6,  Dyce 
follows  the  old  reading  —  wear  thee,  bare  thee.  MARGARET 
RATCLIFFE  makes  an  acrostic.  The  SONG  OF  NIGHT  is  in 
the  Vision  of  Delight,  a  masque. 

DAVISON 

Pp.  71-76 —  To  URANIA  and  her  ANSWER  are  by  Francis  ; 
the  other  poems  may  be  by  either  of  the  brothers.  They  are 
from  Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody,  first  printed  in  1602,  and 
containing  poems  by  Raleigh,  Watson,  Sylvester,  and  others 
named,  besides  many  anonymous  pieces. 

P.  71  —  Sir  Egerton  Brydges,  followed  by  Sir  Harris  Nicolas, 
in  the  last  stanza,  or  staff,  of  the  poem  to  URANIA  has  their 
ire.  Ellis  gives  five  stanzas  of  the  poem,  omitting  the  fourth, 
and  calls  it  Strcphon's  Palinode. 

P.  74 — UPON  HER  PROTESTING.  Nicolas  here  adopts  other 
readings :  stanza  2,  lines  2,  3, — 

Or  face  well-form'd  and  fair  — 

Or  long,  heart-binding  hair  ; 
stanza  3,  line  3  -- 

Or  your  enchanting  grace. 


NOTES  241 

BEAUMONT   AND    FLETCHER 

P.  77 —  TELL  ME!  is  by  Fletcher.     Of  this  two  versions  are 
extant :  that  I  have  given,  from  the  play  of  The  Captain,  and 
one  in  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle.     Instead  of  'Tis 
a  grave,  &c.  in  the  first  stanza,  the  copy  there  has  : — 
SHE  —  'Tis  a  smile 
Doth  beguile 
HE  —  The  poor  hearts  of  men  that  prove. 

And  the  second  stanza  also  reads  differently,  as  follows  : — 
HE  —  Tell  me  more  !    Are  women  true  ? 
SHE  —  Some  love  change,  and  so  do  you. 
HE  —  Are  they  fair  and  never  kind  ? 
SHE  —  Yes !  when  men  turn  with  the  wind. 
HE  —  Are  they  froward  ? 
SHE  —  Ever  toward 

Those  that  love  to  love  anew. 

The  third  stanza  is  wanting.  Here  Dyce  has  wise  for  wiser. 
P.  80  —  HYMN  TO  PAN.  Dyce  (edition  1846)  has  — 

From  that  place  the  morn  is  broke  : 

which  is  ungrammatical  nonsense.  Where  morning  broke, 
I  have  no  doubt,  gives  Fletcher's  meaning,  though  these  very 
words  be  not  his.  He  certainly  wrote  fair  English.  Another 
and  often  quoted  Song  to  Pan  —  "All  ye  woods  and  trees"  is 
in  the  same  most  beautiful  of  all  pastoral  comedies,  Fletcher's 
Faithfiil  Shepherdess. 

The  other  four  Songs  may  probably  be  by  Beaumont :  the 
WEDDING  SONG  in  The  Maid's  Tragedy,  the  DANCE  SONG 
in  A  Masque  of  the  Middle  Temple. 

BURTON 
P.  81.    This  poem  is  prefixed  to  his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy. 

DRUMMOND 

P.  85  —  SEXTAIN.  Sith,  old  usage,  for  since.  The  same  in 
DEATH  NOT  FEARED,  p.  86 ;  and  iu  the  Madrigal  at  p.  246. 


242  NOTES 

P.  87 —  SWEET  ROSE.     To  rhyme  with  kiss'd  in  the  last  line 
I  have  bliss1  d,  instead  of  bless1  d :  the  same  meaning. 
P.  88  —  A  DAEDAL  OF  MY  DEATH.    Turnbull's  edition,  1856, 
copying  the  Edinburgh  edition  of  1616,  has  — 
Now  I  resemble  that  subtle  worm  on  earth 
Which,  prone  to  its  own  evil,  can  take  no  rest : 

two  lines  devoid  'of  rhythm.  Rescuing  the  rhyme  restores 
the  sense.  Semble,  though  out  of  use,  is  a  good  dictionary- 
word,  as  likely  a  word  as  semblance  or  semblant,  used  by 
Spenser.  Uneath  (rhyming  with  death)  is  uneasy,  here  taken 
as  restless  :  also  Spenserian.  "  The  field  is  eath  to  win," 
Gascoigne  writes ;  and  Fairfax,  in  his  Tasso  — 

Who  thinks  him  most  secure  is  eathiest  shamed. 
///  was,  I  think,  more  often  used  than  evil  by  old  writers. 

FIELD 
P.  88  —  MATIN  SONG.     All  the  copies  have  — 

And  ignorance,  darker  than  night. 

WEBSTER 

P.  89.  From  that  most  noble  nor  less  powerful  tragedy, 
The  Duchess  of  Malfy. 

BROWNE 
P.  90.     From  the  Second  Book  of  Britannia's  Pastorals. 

HERRICK 

P.  91  —  The  Hesperides  is  so  rich  in  jewelry,  that  the  most 
careless  selection  can  hardly  be  unsatisfactory.  Yet  being  so 
rich,  there  might  have  been  more  independent  taste.  One  is 
led  to  ask  how  much  of  popular  favouritism  even  in  literature 
is,  like  fashion  in  clothes,  due  to  dictation  of  the  purveyors. 
P.  93  —  PANSIES  :  penstes  (French),  thoughts.  "  Pansies  for 
thoughts,"  says  Ophelia.  Drayton  gives  our  more  commonly 
used  English  name  : — 

The  pansy  heart's  ease  maidens  call. 


NOTES  243 

BRATHWAITE 

P.  96.  Or  Brathwait.  "  A  noted  wit  and  poet;"  his  writings 
"  were  numerous."  So  Ellis,  giving  two  samples  of  his  verse  : 
this,  which  is  also  entitled  Care's  Cure,  "  from  Pahedone,  or 
Health  from  Helicon,  1621  ;  "  and  a  fragment,  of  like  quality, 
from  his  Shepherd's  Tales.  Callet  is  scold.  In  line  2  of  the 
first  stanza  Ellis  prints  — 

Take  the  world  as  it  is. 

In  line  3  of  the  fourth  stanza  he  has  slop-wise  for  slope-wise. 
And  in  line  3  of  the  fifth  stanza  — 

[Where]  lesser  flies  are  quickly  ta'en. 

GOFFE 

P.  98  —  To  SLEEP.    Stoddard,  in  his  choice  but  insufficiently 
known  Melodies  and  Madrigals,  1866,  has  line  5  — 
Morpheus,  be  kind  a  little  and  be. 

SHIRLEY 

P.  too —  HUE  AND  CRY.  From  his  Poems.  In  his  play  of 
The  Witty  Fair  One  I  find  another  version,  here  subjoined. 

IN  LOVE'S  NAME  you  are  charged  hereby 
To  make  a  speedy  hue  and  cry 
After  a  face,  who  t'  other  day 
Came  and  stole  my  heart  away. 
For  your  directions,  in  brief, 
These  are  best  marks  to  know  the  thief. 
Her  hair,  a  net  of  beams,  would  prove 
Strong  enough  to  captive  Jove, 
Playing  the  eagle  ;  her  clear  brow 
Is  a  comely  field  of  snow  ; 
A  sparkling  eye,  so  pure  a  grey 
As  when  it  shines  it  heeds  no  day ; 
Ivory  dwelleth  on  her  nose  ; 
Lilies  married  to  the  rose 
Have  made  her  cheek  the  nuptial  bed  ; 


244  NOTES 

Her  lips  betray  their  virgin  red, 

As  they  only  blush'd  for  this, 

That  they  one  another  kiss  : 

But  observe  !  beside  the  rest, 

You  shall  know  this  felon  best 

By  her  tongue, —  for  if  your  ear 

Shall  once  a  heavenly  music  hear, 

Such  as  neither  gods  nor  men 

But  from  that  voice  shall  hear  again, 
That,  that  is  She  :  O  take  her  t'  ye  ! 
None  can  rock  heaven  asleep  but  she. 

P.  102  —  SONG  TO  HYMEN.  In  line  6  Dyce  prints  chafe  for 
chase.  Has  f  been  mis-set  for  the  old-fashioned  long  f,  and 
escaped  the  printer's  reader  ?  Chafe  does  not  seem  right. 

HABINGTON 

P.  104  —  Qui  QUASI  FLOS  EGREDITUR  (Who  cometh  up  as 
a  flower)  :  from  the  Third  Part  of  Castara  :  a  homily  on  the 
text  —  Job,  14,  2.  How  beautifully  turned  into  a  compliment 
at  the  close ! 

P.  105 — FINE  YOUNG  FOLLY  Campbell  gives  to  Etheridge, 
but  it  is  printed  in  Habington's  Queen  of  Arragon,  a  "  tragi- 
comedie,"  published  in  1640 ;  the  poet  Etheridge  was  born  in 
1636.  If  written  by  an  Etheridge,  it  must  have  been  an  elder, 
under  whom  Richard  Edwards,  known  as  a  "  deviser  of"  and 
a  contributor  to  The  Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices,  is  said  to 
have  studied  music.  In  the  last  line  for  Bedlam  might  we 
not  rather  read  Beldam  —  belle  dame  ? 

SUCKLING 

/*.  113  —  A  BALLAD  OF  A  WEDDING.  I  have  found  this  in 
Witt's  Recreations,  a  selection  "  from  the  Finest  Fancies  of 
Modern  Muses"  1654,  where  (headed  with  a  coarse  wood-cut 
of  two  waggoners,  as  if  it  had  been  first  published  as  a  street 


NOTES  245 

song)  it  appears  as  "  a  Discourse  between  two  countrymen." 
Hazlitt  (W.  C.)  thinks  it  was  addressed  to  Suckling's  friend 
Richard  Lovelace.  It  may  have  been  so :  but  the  Dick  of  the 
ballad  is  my  fellow-waggoner.  The  "two  countrymen"  must 
not  be  lost  sight  of.  It  is  for  that  reason  I  retain  those  little 
nice  touches  of  rusticity, —  volk  and  vorty  tor  folk  and  forty, 
Widson  for  Whitsun.  They  add  a  charm  of  true-semblance 
which  is  lost  in  the  exchange  for  politer  verbiage.  Indeed  one 
noticeable  beauty  of  the  ballad  is  the  rare  mixture  of  courtly 
grace  with  country  manners:  the  "countryman"  not  boorish, 
and  the  courtier  a  true  waggoner.  Hard  by  (second  stanza) 
is  the  street  still  known  as  the  Hay-market.  Course-a-park 
I  take  to  be  the  name  of  some  village  dance  or  game. 

The  Ballad  has  been  printed  incorrectly  in  the  first  edition 
of  Suckling's  Works,  1646;  and  the  text  is  also  corrupt  in  two 
editions  issued  by  Jacob  Tonson,  1709,  1719:  "God  B'w'y'!" 
(so  printed  in  1654 — God  be  with  ye  !  confused  with  kisses) 
becoming  Good  Boy.  Ellis'  copy  agrees  generally  with  mine ; 
though  he  too  accepts  the  Good  Boy.  Against  all  versions  I 
venture  to  print  best  in  line  3  of  the  third  stanza  for  rest:  the 
bridegroom's  place  not  being  first  in  the  procession,  but  first 
of  the  best.  He  would  hardly  be  spoken  of  as  "  amongst  the 
rest"  and  at  the  same  time  "  before  the  rest."  Perhaps  also, 
Suckling  may  have  used  a  better  rhyming  pace  in  stanza  18: 
the  last  line  on  p.  116. 

The  selectors  seem  to  have  been  afraid  of  giving  the  whole 
ot  this  most  delicious  ballad,  a  ballad  "  of  twenty-two  incom- 
parable verses,  of  wonderful  brightness  and  sweetness,"  fairly 
so  described  by  Mr.  Gosse  in  his  excellent  introduction  of  the 
poet,  in  Ward's  English  Poets.  Even  there  we  have  sixteen 
only  of  the  "  incomparable  verses,"  one  as  of  old  incorrect  and 
out  of  place  ;  and  what  is  yet  worse,  the  fragment  printed  as 
if  whole,  without  notice  of  excision  except  the  few  words  I 
quote,  not  necessarily  seen  by  readers  of  the  Ballad.  But  the 


246  NOTES 

omitted  stanzas  may  (my  readers  can  judge  for  themselves) 
be  "  not  in  harmony  with  modern  manners,"  as  Mr.  Palgrave 
so  prettily  phraseth  it,  and  as  some  Rev.  Mr.  Suckling  would 
seem  also  to  have  imagined,  who  gives  with  a  Memoir  of  the 
Poet  only  the  usual  sixteen  stanzas,  without  note  or  apology. 
A  fastidiousness  scarcely  honest  while  Shakspere,  not  yet  out 
of  harmony,  is  on  every  gentleman's  table. 
P.  119  —  A  HEALTH.  I  confess  my  own  liability  to  reproach 
for  altering  this  pearl  of  the  wine-cup  toward  modern  liking. 
The  penultimate  line  in  each  stanza  displaces  one  —  the  same 
in  all  three  stanzas  by  Suckling :  which  a  poetical  reader  will 
easily  restore. 

P.  120  —  BARLEY-BREAK  needs  explanation.  It  was  a  game 
played  by  six  persons,  three  of  each  sex,  coupled  by.  lot.  The 
play-ground  was  divided  into  three,  the  middle  part  was  Hell. 
The  couple  first  condemned,  holding  hands,  tried  to  catch  the 
other  couples  running  across  the  middle  ground,  the  pursued 
being  allowed  to  separate  if  too  hard  pressed.  Jamieson,  in 
his  Etymological  Dictionary,  speaks  of  the  game,  played  in 
Scotland  with  a  dule,  or  goal,  in  a  stack-yard. 

At  barley-break  her  sweet  swift  foot  to  try 

says  Sidney,  describing  the  game  in  a  long  poem  in  Arcadia. 
Among  Morley's  Madrigals  also  we  find  one  upon  it. 

LOVE'S  FOLK  in  green  arraying 

At  barley-break  were  playing: 

Laura  in  Hell  was  caught; 

Then,  O  how  Dorus  laught, 

And  said  —  Good  Mistress!  sith  you 

Will  thither,  needs  have  with  you  I 
Notice  here  the  rhyming  of  caught  and  laught ! 

RUTTER 

Pp.  122-3.  Two  Songs  from  The  Shepherds'  Holiday,  for 
which  see  Dodsley's  OIdPlays,Vf.  C.  Hazlitt's  edition,  1875. 


NOTES  247 

Virginhed — virginity.  So  in  Spenser  is  found  maidenhed 
for  maidenhood,  drowsyhed  ior  drowsiness,  &c. 

CRASHAW 

P.  124 — WISHES.  Another  of  the  always  mutilated  poems: 
the  length  of  this  perhaps  sometimes  an  excuse.  Ward  omits 
twenty-six  of  the  forty-two  triplets  ;  but,  except  in  two  cases, 
honestly  marks  where  the  omissions  occur.  Palgrave,  besides 
arbitrarily  transposing  stanzas,  omits  twenty-one,  not  pointing 
where  :  content  with  informing  us  that  he  has  "attempted  to 
bring  it  within  the  limits  of  lyrical  unity !  "  So  others. 

My  copy  is  from  the  third  edition  of  Crashaw's  Delights  of 
the  Muses,  1670;  but  compared  with  Dr.  Grosart's  Complete 
Works  of  Crash  aw,  1872.  I  find  in  both  :  — 

Meet  you  her,  my  wishes, 
(a  syllable  too  much  for  the  measure)  : 

Which  to  no  boxe  his  being  owes  : 

Blushes  that  bin 
(rhyming  to  the  eye  as  well  as  to  the  ear)  : 

Vertue  their  mistresse, 
(from  which,  I  judge,  a  word  has  been  dropped)  : 

'Bove  all,  nothing  within  that  lowers 
(the  modern  spelling,  lours,  more  exact  to  the  meaning) : 

Whose  merit  dare  apply  it. 

LOVELACE 

P.  129 —  THE  GRASSHOPPER.  The  Chiswick  reprint  (1818), 
which  I  followed  in  my  Golden  Apples  of  Hesperus,  for  ear, 
in  the  first  line,  has  hair,  perhaps  to  better  suit  the  beard  in 
the  second.  I  have  since  thought  that  Lovelace  would  write 
ear :  though  no  more  correct  botanically,  as  the  oat  does  not 
grow  like  wheat  in  ears,  but  in  spikelets. 

A  strange  piece  of  criticism  on  this  poem,  stranger  from  so 
accomplished  a  critic  as  Mr.  Gosse,  prefaces  the  eight  stanzas 
given  in  Ward.  Mr.  Gosse  writes  what  follows. 

"  In  the  curious  verses  entitled  The  Grasshopper,  of  which  we  shall 


248  NOTES 

presently  give  all  that  is  intelligible,  we  seem  to  possess  an  instance 
of  his  hurried  and  jejune  mode  of  composition.  He  commences  by 
addressing  the  grasshopper,  in  lines  of  unusual  dignity  and  preg- 
nancy, but  he  presently  forgets  this,  and  without  sign  of  transition, 
recommences  '  Thou  best  of  men  and  friends,'  this  time  plainly  ad- 
dressing the  friend,  Charles  Cotton,  to  whom  the  ode  was  sent.  It 
is  difficult  to  believe  that  he  ever  himself  read  over  his  lines,  for  it 
could  not  fail  to  occur  to  him,  had  he  done  so,  that  the  same  object 
could  not  be  spoken  to  as  '  Poor  verdant  fool '  and  as  '  Thou  best 
of  men  and  friends.'  " 

Ward's  English  Poets :  vol.  2,  p.  183. 

The  same  object  is  not  so  spoken  to.  Having  described  the 
brief  summer  joys  of  the  grasshopper,  poor  verdant  fool,  now 
only  green  ice,  and  pointed  the  moral  for  us,  to  "  lay  in  'gainst 
winter,"  he  turns  naturally  to  his  friend  Cotton.  Thou  best 
of  men  and  friends !  he  says,  we  will  not  be  content  with  such 
grasshopper  joys  ;  we  "will  create  a  genuine  summer  in  each 
other's  breast,  and,  spite  of  this  cold  time,  our  sacred  hearths 
shall  burn  eternally."  Whereupon  most  appropriately  follows 
the  other  omitted  as  "  unintelligible"  stanza  — 

Dropping  December  shall  come  weeping  in : 
his  ice-crown  melting  off  at  the  cheerful  fireside  warmth,  but 
reconciled  and  recrowned,  a  king  again,  with  the  brightness 
of  their  classic  talk.     How  could  Mr.  Gosse,  himself  a  poet, 
miss  so  obvious  an  understanding  ?    Did  he  not  remember  the 

Sidneian  showers 
Of  sweet  discourse,  whose  powers 
Can  crown  old  Winter's  head  with  flowers  ? 

P.  130.  Ward,  not  using  a  capital  to  Vestal  (stanza  7)  loses 
its  full  meaning :  not  only  virgin  flames,  but  the  never-extin- 
guished fire  in  Vesta's  temple.  In  the  next  line  the  omission 
of  a  comma  gives  us  the  absurd  image  of  a  dissolving  ^Etna. 
Are  these  small  things  ?  They  show  how  easily  texts  can  be 
obscured.  They  indicate  perhaps  that  commas  and  capitals, 
whether  of  printer  or  editor,  can  not  always  be  depended  on. 


NOTES  249 

MARVELL 

P.  136  —  CLORINDA  AND  DAMON.  In  line  8  vade,  from  the 
Latin  vadere,  to  depart ;  "  useful  in  poetry,  but  not  received," 
says  Dr.  Johnson.  Used  by  Shakspere,  as  distinct  from  fade. 
Brathwaite  again  marks  the  difference  : — 

Thy  form 's  divine,  no  fading  vading  flower. 
P.  138.     Our  Pan's  qiiire:  old  spelling  for  choir,  as  quirister 
for  chorister.     Dear  quirister  !  writes  Drummond. 

BROME 

P.  142 —  BEGGARS'  SONG.     Remore  —  hinder:  a  word  I  can 
not  find  in  another  author ;  nor  in  the  dictionaries.     It  is  from 
the  Latin,  Remora,  the  name  of  a  fish  supposed  "  to  stick  to 
ships  and  retard  their  progress."     Milton  makes  it  English  : 
The  sum  is,  they  thought  to  limit  or  take  away 

the  remora  of  his  negative  voice. 

Richard  Brome  was  the  author  of  fifteen  plays  :  his  brother, 
Alexander,  of  one. 

VAUGHAN 

P.  143  —  EPITHALAMIUM.  From  "  Olor  Iscanus,  a  collection 
of  select  poems  and  translations  by  Henry  Vaughan,  Silurist, 
published  by  a  friend,  1651."  Ellis  gives  tjiree  broken  stanzas, 
apologizing  for  their  "  too  much  quaintness  and  conceit." 

The  second  stanza  in  my  copy  has  he  and  his.  I  hesitated 
before  altering  this  (for  all  the  strangeness  of  a  he  Rose  and  a 
she  Sun),  for  the  author  may  have  so  written.  The  pronouns 
are  often  confused  in  these  old  texts. 

HALL 

P.  147  —  EPITAPH.  From  Poems  of  John  Hall  of  Durham. 
1646,  reprinted  at  Longman's  Private  Press,  1846. 

FLETCHER 

P.  148.  Of  whom  I  find  nothing  except  the  date  of  1656  to  a 
small  volume  of  Translations  from  Martial,  Epigrams,  &c. 


250  NOTES 

FLECKNOE 

P.  149.  Who  had  some  poetic  gift,  notwithstanding  Dryden. 
CHLORIS  is  in  a  little  book,  containing  also  his  "  Diarium  or 
Journal,  divided  into  12  Jornadas,  in  burlesque  rhyme  or  drol- 
ling verse,"  1656. 

BULTEEL 

P.  150.  Ritson  speaks  of  him  as  secretary  to  Clarendon.  He 
was  the  author  of  one  play,  Amorous  Oruntus,  or  The  Love 
in  fashion.  Campbell  gives  a  song  by  him.  The  one  I  give 
should  perhaps  have  had  place  among  the  poems  by  authors 
unknown,  coming  in  "  a  collection  written  by  several  persons, 
never  printed  before"  (156  pp.),  lettered  on  the  back  and 
also  written  inside  —  "  by  John  Bultiel."  1674. 

TOTTEL'S  MISCELLANY 
The  first  edition  of  this  earliest  of  collections  has  for  all  title: 

SONGS  AND  SONETTES 
written  by  the  ryght  honorable  Lorde 
Henry  Howard  late  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, and  other. 
Afud  Richardum  Tottel,  1557.     Cum  frhnlegio. 

This  first  edition,  published  June  5,  contains  36  poems  by 
Surrey,  90  by  Wyatt,  40  by  Grimaold  ;  and  95  by  "  uncertain 
authors," — of  which  last  two  are  attributable  to  Vaux,  one  to 
Heywood  (that  I  have  printed  at  p.  3),  and  one  to  Somerset. 
The  second  edition,  July  31  in  this  same  year  1557,  contains 
39  additional  poems  by  anonymous  writers.  My  selection  is 
mainly  from  the  first  95,  only  the  last  three  from  those  added. 
The  book  was  reprinted,  carefully  edited  by  Arber,  in  1870. 

Pp.  153-4 — THE  MEAN  ESTATE  HAPPIEST.    Arber  has  — 

Rule  is  enmy  to  quietness. 

That  quite  nights  he  had  more  slept 


NOTES  251 

P.  155  —  LOVE'S  DISDAINER.  The  second  and  fourth  lines 
of  the  third  stanza  give  saught  and  laught  as  rhymes  ;  in  the 
fifth  stanza  are  caught  and  laught;  and  in  the  last  caught 
and  taught.  Was  laught  pronounced  hard  ? 
P.  158  —  PROMISE  OF  A  CONSTANT  LOVER.  Tenc  —  grief, 
grievous  trouble ;  let — hindrance.  In  place  of  let  Arber  has 
thret :  but  he  has  also  thrette  in  the  second  line.  I  but  guess 
it  should  be  let.  However,  the  poet  himself  may  be  in  fault. 
Spenser  has  the  identical  duplication:  in  canto  xi,  stanza  21, 
of  The  Legend  of  Holiness : — 

When  wintry  storm  his  wrathful  wreck  does  threat 
—  Then  'gin  the  blustering  brethren  boldly  threat. 
And  canto  vi,  stanza  36,  new  with  knew,  and  ra/with  red: 
That  in  his  armour  bare  a  croslet  red  — 
To  tell  the  sad  sight  which  mine  eies  have  red. 
Let  it  be  confessed  that  all  our  difficulties  are  not  chargeable 
to  the  printer. 
P.  160  —  OF  THE  CHOICE  OF  A  WIFE.     In  Tottel  — 

Gives  first  the  cause  why  men  to  heare  delight, 

And  yet  not  so  content,  they  wish  to  see. 
That,  in  third  line  of  third  stanza,  is  used  for  what. 
Pp.  161-2  —  OTHERS  PREFERRED.     In  Tottel  — 

The  worse  I  speed  the  longer  1  watch. 

Since  my  will  is  at  others  lust. 

That  helpeth  them,  lo  !  cruelty  doth  me  kill. 

In  the  first  edition  of  Tottel  this  is  attributed  to  Wyatt ;  in  the 
second  placed  among  the  uncertain.  Is  this  the  only  one  too 
hastily  attributed  ?  Were  these  collecting  publishers  worthy 
of  much  trust  ?  Was  it  all  fish  in  their  nets  ? 

P.  162  —  No  JOY  HAVE  I.     Relesse  is  release  ;  lesse,  loss. 
P.  163  —  OF  THE  GOLDEN  MEAN.     Guie  may  be  guide  :  ne 
is  nor  ;  wotmes  —  inhabits  ;  ruing  —  perhaps  only  a  misprint 
for  rising;  one  self  Jove  —  one  same,  one  self-same  Jove  ;  by 
coiirse  —  in  turn  ;  ''suage  —  assuage  (elision  not  infrequent). 


252  NOTES 

P.  164  —  THE  PRAISE  OF  A  TRUE  FRIEND.  Reave  —  reive, 
bereave;  eke  —  also.  These  last  three  pieces  come  together 
in  the  Miscellany,  and  seem  to  be  by  one  hand.  I  had  hardly 
thought  them  worth  giving  but  for  the  construction  of  verse. 

THE  PARADISE  OF  DAINTY  DEVICES, 
first  appeared  in  1576,  purporting  to  be  "devised  and  written 
for  the  most  part  by  M.  Edwards,  sometime  of  her  Majestie's 
Chappel ;  the  rest  by  sundry  learned  gentlemen  both  of  honour 
and  worshippe."  Richard  Edwards  died  in  1566.  Was  it  the 
clever  publisher's  device  ?  —  this  putting  his  name,  he,  as  Ellis 
tells  us,  "  being  much  esteemed  for  the  variety  of  his  talents, 
at  once  the  best  fiddler,  mimic,  and  sonneteer,  of  the  Court." 
An  able  composer  also  of  church  music  and  madrigals.  His 
name  very  taking  on  a  title-page.  But  "  written  for  the  most 
part."  There  are  loo  poems  in  the  first  edition:  only  eleven 
of  which  are  attributed  to  Edwards.  In  the  edition  of  1580  is 
an  Appendix  with  25  more,  two  by  Edwards.  In  1576  ten  of 
the  poems  have  M.  Ed-wards  subscribed  ;  one  (at  our  p.  168) 
has  M.  Edwardes  May  superscribed.  In  the  Appendix,  four 
years  later,  there  is  a  Reply  to  M.  Edwards  May  ;  and  in  the 
same  a  rejoinder  to  that  (surely  not  by  Edwards,  then  dead 
fourteen  years),  Maister  Edwards  his  I  may  not.  Finding 
no  other  testimony,  the  doubtful  look  of  this  leads  me  to  class 
"  M.  Edwards' "  writings  with  those  of  authors  uncertain. 
P.  168  —  MAY.  In  the  British  Bibliography  of  Brydges  and 
Hazlewood  this  is  printed  in  three  stanzas  of  six  lines  each. 
P.  165  —  LIFE'S  STAY.  All  but  the  first  two  lines  in  Dana's 
Household  Book  of  Poetry.  He  mis-dates  it  I7th  century. 

BYRD'S   SONGS 

P.  169 — RIGHT  CAREFULNESS.  This  is  generally  given  to 
Byrd  ;  but  I  can  find  no  authority  to  justify  the  gift. 

William  Byrd,  born  about  1545,  was  a  musician.    Till  1588, 
says  Oliphant  in  his  Musa  Madrigalesca,  he  seems  "  to  have 


NOTES  253 

confined  himself  to  the  composition  of  sacred  songs,  motets, 
&c.  to  Latin  words;  but  when  about  that  time  an  importation 
of  lighter  strains  arrived  from  Italy,  he  found  it  advisable  to 
follow  the  new  fashion."  Byrd  himself  calls  his  first  collection 
of  Psalms  and  Sonnets  the  "  first  printed  work  of  mine  in 
English,"  meaning,  I  suppose,  his  first  music  with  English 
words.  The  words  Out  of  M.  Birds  Set  Songs,  in  England's 
Helicon,  I  think,  only  imply  that  he  wrote  the  music.  These 
Set  Songs  I  take  to  be  his  Songs  ofsundrie  natures,  47  in  all, 
"  some  of  gravitie  and  others  of  mirth,  fit  for  all  companies 
and  voyces,  lately  made  and  composed  into  musick  of  three, 
four,  five  and  six  parts,  and  published  for  the  delight  of  all 
such  as  take  pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  that  art.  Imprinted 
at  London  by  Thomas  Este,  the  Assigne  of  William  Byrd, 
1589."  There  is  nothing  to  affirm  a  claim  as  poet. 

P.  171  —  LOVE'S  ARROWS.     In  Collier's  Lyrical  Poems  — 
There  careless  thoughts  are  freed  of  that  flame. 

P.  1 72  —  THE  HERD-MAN'S  HAPPY  LIFE.     Ellis  has  — 

And  fortune's  favours  scorning. 
In  England 's  Helicon  it  is  — 

And  Fortune's  fate  not  fearing. 

Presumptuous  and  sumptuous,  with  the  different  sounds  of  s, 
rhyme  well,  p.  173.  Ellis  does  not  give  this  stanza. 

P.  175  —  BROWN  is  MY  LOVE  and  CYNTHIA  are  from  Byrd's 
Musica  Transalpina :  free  translations  probably.  CYNTHIA, 
writes  Oliphant,  "  is  quite  unintelligible  and  sets  all  the  rules 
of  common  sense  at  defiance."  He  may  well  think  so,  with  a 
semicolon  ending  the  second. line.  Yet  I  conceive  there  is  no 
lack  of  either  sense  or  grammatical  correctness.  Cynthia!  of 
Syrens  the  most  commended,  for  that  thou  neither  killest  nor 

woundest,  thy  song  awaketh  in  gentle  hearts Surely  he  is 

a  dull  reader  who  can  not  understand  this.  The  music  may 
require  wanton  Love  maketh;  but  Love  wanton  maketh  had 
been  better  reading.  Oliphant  quotes  it  to  praise  the  music. 


254  NOTES 

THE   PHCENIX    NEST 

"  Built  up  with  the  most  rare  and  refined  works  of  Noblemen, 
Worthy  Knights,  Gallant  Gentlemen,  Masters  of  Arts,  and 
brave  schollers, —  full  of  varietie,  excellent  monition,  and  sin- 
gular delight :  never  before  published.  Set  forth  by  R.  S.  of 
the  Inner  Temple,  Gentleman,  1593."  The  first  poem  in  it  is 
Roydon's  noble  elegy  on  Sidney.  Peele,  Watson,  Lodge,  and 
others,  were  contributors.  Reprinted  in  Park's  Heliconia. 

P.  176  —  THE  ANATOMY  OF  LOVE.  In  the  Phoenix  Nest  it 
is  A  Description  of  Love:  my  title  is  that  given  in  Davison's 
Poetical  Rhapsody,  1602.  It  is  anonymous  in  both  :  though 
ascribed  to  Raleigh  in  a  MS.  list  of  Davison's.  In  England' 's 
Helicon,  1600,  it  had  appeared,  the  signature  obliterated,  as 
The  Shepherd's  Description  of  Love :  in  a  dialogue  between 
Melibceus  and  Faustus  :  beginning  — 

Shepherd !  what 's  love  ?     1  pray  thee  tell. 

But  the  occasional  shepherd  is  the  chief  difference.  Hannah 
gives  for  the  last  line  — 

And  shepherd !  this  is  love,  I  trow. 
While  Nicolas  has  it  — 

And  this  is  some  sweet  friend,  I  trow. 

Sain  is  said.  The  sauncing,  sacring,  or  saints'  bell  is  a  small 
bell  used  in  the  Romish  Church  to  call  attention  to  the  more 
solemn  parts  of  the  service  of  the  Mass,  as  at  the  conclusion 
when  the  priest  repeats  the  words  Sancte  sancte  sancte,  Deus 
Sabaoth  !  Also  at  the  elevation  of  the  Host. 
P.  177 —  To  NIGHT.  In  Park's  Heliconia,  1815,  pleasures 
ends  both  first  and  third  lines.  Campbell,  in  his  Specimens, 
1841,  has  pleasure  and  treasure  : — 

There's  none  but  only  thou  can  guide  me  to  my  treasure  : 
contradicting  the  later  line  — 

Let  them  that  miss  the  way  be  guided  by  thy  light  I 
The  second  stanza  Campbell  omits.     Both  he  and  Park  have 

Hold  in  thy  horns  for  shining. 


NOTES  255 

DOWLAND'S    SONG   BOOKS 

John  Dowland,  Bachelor  in  Musick  and  Lutenist  to  the  King 
of  Denmark,  born  about  1562,  published  between  1596  and 
1603  three  Books  of  Songs,  Airs  in  four  parts  with  tableture 
for  the  lute. 

P.  179  —  THE  LOVER'S  DESPAIR.  Flowers  of  spine  —  thorn 
flowers.  So  in  Fletcher  — 

Roses,  their  sharp  spines  being  gone. 
Collier  in  his  Lyrical  Poems  prints  — 

Alas  like  flowers  of  Spain 

Thy  graces  rorie  be  : 

with  a  note,  suggesting  spine  for  Spain  :  seeing  "  no  reason 
why  flowers  of  Spain  should  be  more  dewy  than  those  of  other 
countries."  But,  are  flowers  of  spine  more  dewy  than  others? 
And  what  are  dewy  graces  ?  He  took  rorie  for  granted  :  and 
it  will  be  found  in  the  dictionaries,  "  from  the  Latin  ros  roris, 
the  dew."  As  authority,  Webster  cites  Fairfax  : — 
And  shook  his  wings  with  rory  may-dews  wet. 
Dewy  dews  ?  The  dew  on  the  pink-edged  May-bloom  would 
be  rosy.  Rorie,  or  rory,  looks  like  a  misprint  in  each  of  the 
above  instances.  Are  there  any  more  ?  Did  the  dictionary- 
maker,  dropping  on  the  word,  discover  an  etymology  to  suit? 

P.  181,  /.  2 —  LOVE  AND  SORROW.     Collier  would  here  alter 
hurt  to  heart;  but  the  context  shows  hurt  to  be  right. 
P.  181  —  SERENADE.     In  England's  Helicon  also,  "taken 
out  of  Maister  John  Dowland's  Tableture  for  the  Lute." 

P.  183 — -To  CYNTHIA.  Also  in  the  Helicon,  from  Dowland, 
with  "  the  Author's  name  not  there  set  downe."  On  support 
of  a  copy  "  signed  W.  S."  having  been  found  at  Hamburg,  in 
an  English  common-place  book,  it  has  been  supposed  that  it 
was  written  by  Shakspere.  It  has  rather  the  trick  of  Raleigh, 
and  is  more  worthy  of  him  than  most  of  the  poems  called  his. 
R,  the  second  stroke  faint  or  defaced,  might  be  taken  for  S, 


256  NOTES 

P.  184  —  WEEP  YOU  NO  MORE  !    And  whose  this  loveliest  of 

songs  ?     Worth  especial  notice  is  the  beautiful  close  of  each 

stanza  (too  easily  spoiled  by  wrong  punctuation)  — 

That  now  lies  sleeping  softly, 

Now  softly  lies, 

Sleeping. 

P.  185 — WHITE  AS  LILIES.    Quiting,  requiting.    Collier  has 

Quitting  faith  with  foul  disgrace. 

Careless  of  my  bitter  groaning, 

From  her  scant  neglect  proceeding. 

Should  reward  their  friends  as  foemen. 
And  for  the  last  line,  wanting  in  the  original,  suggests  — 

First  to  love,  then  leave  forlorn. 
But  there  is  no  first-loving  in  the  song. 

P.  187  —  EYES  AND  HEARTS.     Collier  has  — 

Makes  our  fraile  pleasures  eternall  and  in  sweetness  prove ; 

Are  still  with  sorrow  declining  unto  deep  annoies. 

If  all  one  soul  must  love, 

By  faith  and  merit  united,  can  not  remove ; 

Distracted  spirits 

Ten  thousand  beauties,  yet  in  us  one  should  be. 

Surely,  if  dependence  upon  old  texts  can  give  us  such  results, 
we  had  better  discharge  our  Dryasdust,  be  he  printer's  reader 
or  editor,  and  trust  the  likelihood  of  common  sense :  it  seems 
not  altogether  lacking  in  these  early  writers,  in  even  the  most 
careless  of  them.  How  pertinent  here  Collier's  own  remark: 
"  Literal  errors  in  the  words  to  songs  have  been  frequent  from 
the  earliest  to  the  latest  times  ; "  and  "  woeful  blunders  trans- 
mitted to  us  in  many  of  the  productions  of  the  poets." 

P.  189 —  THE  HERMIT'S  SONG.  Two  lines  close  each  stanza: 
"conveyed"  by  Dowland  from  a  song  in  Sidney's  Arcadia. 

O  sweet  woods    the  delight  of  solitariness : 

O  how  much  do  I  love  your  solitariness ! 

Clearly  they  do  not  belong  to  the  subject  nor  accord  with  the 
"  sad  groves  "  and  "  place  of  mourning ; "  but  may  have  been 


NOTES  257 

appropriated  to  fit  a  lively  change  in  the  music?  May  we  not 
regard  it  as  a  sample  of  the  liberties  taken  by  our  musicians? 
Wanstead  House,  near  London,  was  a  seat  of  the  Earl  of 
Leicester.  Here  Sidney  wrote  his  masque,  The  Lady  of  the 
May,  on  occasion  of  a  visit  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  1578.  Was 
Raleigh  retired  there  during  some  season  of  her  displeasure  ? 
There  is  a  look  of  him  about  this  song,  not  unlike  the  lines 
to  Cynthia;  and  what  mistress  but  Majesty  should  appoint 
his  place  of  retirement  ? 

Wanstead  !  my  Mistress  saith  this  is  the  doom. 
"  The  mention  of  Wanstead,"  writes  Collier,  "  shows  that  the 
piece,  whatever  it  might  be,  whether  play,  masque,  or  other 
entertainment  of  a  dramatic  kind,  was  performed  there."    But 
the  lines  give  no  indication  of  their  being  part  of  anything. 

P.  190  —  LOVE  AND  FORTUNE.  I  place  this  with  the  Songs 
from  Dowland's  Books,  first  finding  it  there ;  a  more  correct 
copy  appears  (quite  out  of  place)  in  Newman's  /j.to  edition  of 
Sidney.  Collier  reprints  both  :  the  Dowland  version  in  1844, 
in  his  Lyrical  Poems;  and  the  Newman  version  in  1865,  in  a 
note,  in  his  Bibliographical  Catalogue  of  early  English  Lit- 
erature, introducing  it  with  these  words  —  "  We  are  not  sure 
whether  the  sprightly  lines  here  imputed  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford 
have  ever  been  reprinted  in  modern  times."  Dowland  omits 
the  second  stanza,  and  gives  the  third  as  here  follows. 

Fortune  sweares  weakest  harts, 

The  booke  of  Cupid's  darts, 
Turne  with  hir  wheele. 

Sences  sometimes  shall  prove, 

Venture  hir  place  in  love, 
Aske  them  that  feele. 

[Collier's  Lyrical  Poems,  printed  for  the  Percy  Society,  p.  82; 
Bibl.  Cat.,  vol.  I,  pp.  45-6.] 

Venter  —  the  belly.     Fortune  is  speaking  sneeringly.     She 
may  mean  that  mere  condition  of  body  is  sometimes  occasion 


258  NOTES 

of  love,  irrespective  of  any  diviner  incitement.  Such  seems 
to  be  also  the  sense  in  Dowland :  but  both  the  texts  are 
obscure,  and  both  most  probably  corrupt. 
P.  194 — THE  PEDLAR'S  SONG.  Collier,  following  Dowland, 
has  pinnes  points,  laces  and  gloves.  I  think  the  pedlar  was 
selling,  not  pins'  points,  but  pins  and  points.  A  point,  in  my 
time  even,  in  country  places,  was  the  name  of  a  small  tool  for 
making  holes  in  cloth,  linen,  &c.,  "eyes"  for  hooks  to  catch  in. 

MADRIGALS 

P.  195.  DEFIANCE  TO  LOVE  is  suspected  to  be  by  Drayton. 
I  so  gave  it  among  my  Golden  Apples.  Not  finding  it  in  his 
collected  works,  I  place  it  here  under  the  Uncertain  Authors. 
MY  DAINTY  DARLING  and  other  words  with  Morley's  music 
may  be  his  also.  Morley  was  the  first  Englishman  to  .produce 
a  "  Book  of  Balletts  "  (mistaken  by  Collier  to  mean  Ballads). 
Ballets  were  songs  set  to  music  to  be  danced  to.  Fear  is  old 
usage  for  frighten,  as  in  Shakspere  — 

For  Warwick  was  a  bug  that  fear'd  us  all. 

P.  196 —  FALSE  CLARINDA.  Relying,  or  leaning  ;  perslver, 
an  old  form  of  persevere.  Very  unsatisfactory  the  text  (I  do 
not  attempt  to  mend  it)  of  the  second  stanza,  a  stanza  not  in 
the  Helicon  copy. 

P.  197 —  FALSE  DORUS.  In  England'1  s  Helicon  as  "  Lycoris 
the  nymph,  her  sad  song."  In  last  line  of  DAPHNE  fire  is  a 
dissyllable,  as  in  Sidney.  Oliphant  praises  John  VVilbye  as 
the  best  of  the  madrigal  composers. 

P-  198 — THE  JEWEL.  Surely  this  is  fragmentary:  odd  lines 
chosen  for  the  air.  Probably  many  of  our  old  madrigals  are 
no  more  :  what  suited  the  composer,  or  altered  to  suit. 

P.  199  —  LOVE  ME  NOT  FOR  COMELY  GRACE.       Ellis  has  it  — 

Love  not  me.  In  line  8  I  have  well  for  still.  Our  poets  were 
not  scant  of  words,  and  even  unmusical  copyists  are  careless. 


NOTES  259 

P.  201  —  HOLD  OUT,  MY  HEART  !  At  first  thought  a  rhyme 
seems  wanted  iofiej  but  I  would  rather  conclude  that  it  was 
wilfully  omitted  by  the  author.  Only  transposing  say  and  cry 
would  give  the  rhyme;  but  is  not  the  ear  better  satisfied  with 
the  recurring  sounds  within  the  lines  ?  His  full  rewarding, 
/.  e.  his  love's.  Weelkes  was  organist  of  Chichester  Cathedral. 

P.  205  —  A  MISTRESS  DESCRIBED  appears  to  be  founded  on, 
and  more  than  the  thought  borrowed  from,  Heywood,  p.  3. 

P.  206  —  SINCE  FIRST  I  SAW  YOUR  FACE.  Of  this  the  first 
and  third  stanzas  are  often  sung  as  a  "  Madrigal,"  but  Hullah 
(who  gives  the  fourth  in  brackets,  as  if  doubtful)  writing  of 
such  music  says  —  "The  vocal  compositions  of  John  Dowland, 
often  incorrectly  called  madrigals,  are  for  the  most  part  songs 
with  accompaniment  for  the  Lute,  or  for  three  other  voices. 
Though  a  contemporary  of  the  great  English  madrigal  writers, 
Dowland  was  not  one  of  them.  His  compositions,  like  those 
of  Forde,  belong  rather  to  the  school  of  which,  in  England, 
Henry  Lawes  (Milton's  friend)  was  the  most  accomplished 
master."  [Notes  to  Hullah's  Song  Book,  pp.  354  -  5.] 

Excellent  the  music,  and  yet  more  note-worthy  the  perfect 
accord  of  words  and  music,  of  this,  the  choicest  of  madrigals 
or  songs.  I  would  fain  believe  that  Forde  wrote  both,  though 
there  is  only  the  internal  evidence  of  its  likelihood. 

P.  207  —  THE  RIGHT  OF  BEAUTY.  Words,  as  well  as  music, 
of  this  and  other  pieces  have  always  been  given  to  Campion, 
on  the  ground  of  their  appearing  as  his  in  Davison's  Poetical 
Rhapsody.  Campion,  says  Ellis,  was  a  physician,  and  also, 
adds  Nicolas,  famous  for  musical  and  poetical  talent.  And  he 
is  spoken  of  in  connection  with  Watson  as  a  good  Latin  poet. 
Two  Books  of  Airs  were  composed  by  him.  Four  poems  arc 
set  down  as  his  in  the  Rhapsody.  Probably  these  composers 
(he  likeliest)  did  sometimes  write  words  for  their  own  music, 
but  what  really  belongs  to  them  as  poets  remains  uncertain. 


26O  NOTES 

P.  208  —  DEUTEROMELIA  is  the  first,  PAMMELIA  the  second, 
and  MELISMATA  the  third,  in  a  series  of  "  Pleasant  Rounde- 
lays, Delightful  Catches,  Freemen's  Songs,"  &c.,  put  forth  by 
Thomas  Ravenscroft.  Was  our  THREE  POOR  MARINERS 
the  original,  or  an  imitation,  of  the  better  known  song  in  the 
same  collection  ? — 

We  be  Soldiers  three  : 

Fardona  moy,  je  vous  an  pree ! 

Lately  come  forth  of  the  Low  Countrie, 

With  never  a  penny  of  money. 

Pp.  208-9  —  THE  THREE  RAVENS.  Words  and  music,  says 
Chappell,  as  early  as  Henry  the  eighth.  In  the  Two,  Corbies, 
a  Scottish  version  of  this  (which  is  the  elder  ?),  copied  from 
Ritson  in  Scott's  Border  Minstrelsy,  hound,  hawk,  and  lover 
forsake  the  dead  knight.  Is  earthen  lake  the  grave ;  or  is  it 
Spenser's  "lethe"  or  "limbo  lake,"  which  is  under  the  earth  ? 
Leman  is  lady-love.  The  burthen,  or  refrain,  With  a  down, 
&c.,  follows  every  two  lines. 

ENGLAND'S  HELICON 

Or  The  Muses'  Harmony  :  the  first  edition  in  1600  with  150, 
the  second  in  1614  with  159  pieces,  by  the  best  Elizabethan 
poets:  the  richest  and  most  varied  of  all  the  early  collections. 
Here  are  the  poems  signed  Ignoto,  too  hastily  supposed  to  be 
by  Raleigh.  I  have  already  taken  of  its  contents. 
P.  210 —  PHILLIDA  AND  CORYDON.  In  the  Helicon  entitled 
Phillida's  Love-call  to  her  Cory  don  and  his  Replying.  Say, 
in  French  saie,  is  a  thin  kind  of  serge. 

P.  212  —  BEAUTY  SAT  BATHING.  To  Colin  Clout  in  Helicon; 
Shepherd  Tonie  is  guessed  to  be  Anthony  Munday. 

DAVISON'S    POETICAL   RHAPSODY 
Pp.  213-17  —  A.W.  has  baulked  all  inquirers.     Not  meaning 
disrespect  to  any,  one  can  hardly  refrain  from  observing  that 
A.  W.  might  hide  Anonymous  Writer.     The  first  edition  of 


NOTES  26l 

the  Rhapsody  appeared  in  1602  ;  it  was  enlarged  in  1608,  and 
again  in  1611  ;  and  re-arranged  in  1621.  Reprinted  in  1814, 
at  Lee  Priory,  by  Sir  Egerton  Brydges.  See  Davison,  p.  240. 

P.  218  —  IF  WRONG  BY  FORCE.  In  Sir  Harris  Nicolas' reprint 
in  1826,  he  remarks  that  in  the  third  edition  a  stanza  omitted 
from  the  earlier  editions  had  been  added  to  The  Anatomy  of 
Love.  Plainly  not  belonging  to  that,  he  removes  it  to  a  note. 
Further  consideration  would  have  shown  him  that,  it  is  part 
(misplaced,  I  think,  in  making  up  the  pages)  of  the  following 
poem  —  IF  WRONG  BY  FORCE.  I  give  it  as  the  third  stanza. 

Pp.  219,  20  —  ON  A  BEAUTIFUL  VIRGIN.  Trench  omits  the 
last  triplet ;  and  calls  it  A  Pagan  Epitaph.  Agen  —  again. 

P.  221  —  PHILLADA.  Author  and  date  not  known  :  but  the 
air  is  referred  to  as  "a  new  tune"  in  The  Crown  Garland  of 
Roses,  1612.  In  Walton's  Complete  Angler  we  find  — 

Milkwoman !  what  song  was  it  ?  I  pray.     Was  it  "  Come, 

Shepherds !  deck  your  heads ! "  or  "  As  at  noon  Dulcina 

rested,"  or  "  Phillada  flouts  me,"  or  "  Chevy  Chase,"  or 

"  Johnny  Armstrong,"  or  "  Troy  Town"? 

My  version  mainly  adheres  to  Ellis,  who  refers  to  a  poetical 
miscellany,  Wit  Restored,  published  in  1658.  Ritson  copies 
from  another  miscellany,  The  Theatre  of  Compliments,  1689. 
The  two  versions  differ  materially.  My  and  Ellis'  stanzas 
4  and  6  stand  in  Ritson  as  8  and  7,  Ritson  inserting  another, 
I  think  spurious,  as  4,  between  Ellis'  3  and  4  :  as  follows. 

I  often  heard  her  say 

That  she  loved  posies  : 
In  the  last  month  of  May 

I  gave  her  roses. 
Cowslips  and  gillyflowers 

And  the  sweet  lily 
I  got  to  deck  the  bowers 

Of  my  dear  Philly. 


262  NOTES 

She  did  them  all  disdain, 
And  threw  them  back  again  : 
Therefore  'tis  flat  and  plain 

Phillida  flouts  me. 

Besides  this  addition,  I  note  the  following  as  most  important 
differences  in  the  two  versions.  Ellis'  copy  seems  to  have  a 
more  original  flavour ;  Ritson's  to  be  more  corrupt,  yet  some- 
times correcting  Ellis.  In  our  stanza  2  Ritson  has  — 

Dick  had  her  to  the  Vine. 

No  !  Will  had  her  with  him  (so  Ellis)  all  the  dinner  through, 
to  the  -wine,  when  the  men  were  left  to  themselves. 
Stanza  4  Ritson  gives  as  under. 

But  if  she  frowns  on  me, 

She  ne'er  shall  wear  it ; 

I  '11  give  it  my  maiQ  Joan, 

And  she  shall  tear  it. 
Since  'twill  no  better  be, 
I  '11  bear  it  patiently ; 
Yet  all  the  world  may  see 

Phillida  flouts  me. 
Stanza  7,  Ritson  again  — 

Which  way  soe'er  I  go, 

She  still  torments  me ; 
And  whatsoe'er  I  do, 

Nothing  contents  me ; 
I  fade  and  pine  away, 

With  grief  and  sorrow; 
I  fall  quite  to  decay 
Like  any  shadow. 

Here  Ellis  (Wit  Restored —  the  earlier  copy)  reads  — 
I  'gin  to  pine  away 

With  grief  and  sorrow, 
Like  to  a  fatted  beast 

Penn'd  in  a  meadow. 

Neither  reading  can  be  right,  the  alternate  rhymes  elsewhere 
regularly  maintained.     I  correct  with  diffidence. 
Stanza  3 :  guedes  (goods  in  both  Ritson  and  Ellis)  —  things. 
See  Glossary  to  Scott's  Sir  Tristram.     Look  also  in  Littrd's 


NOTES  263 

French  Dictionary.  Stanza  4:  clout — a  kerchief  ;  Coventry, 
some  fabric  made  at  Coventry,  or  perhaps  a  kind  of  thread  for 
embroidery.  The  blue  is  Ritson  ;  Ellis  \a&  good.  In  stanza  5 
I  venture  on  crudded  (clouted  or  clotted)  cream  against  both 
Ritson  and  Ellis,  who  have  curds  and  cream.  Whig  is  sour 
buttermilk,  something  between  pure  milk  and  whey  :  whence 
the  name  of  the  English  Whig  politician,  as  being  neither  one 
thing  nor  the  other,  like  the  Bat  in  the  Fable.  Drayton  has  — 
With  green  cheese,  clouted  cream,  with  flawns  and  custards 

stored, 

Whig,  cider,  and  with  whey,  I  domineer  a  lord. 
And  Warner  in  his  Albion's  England — 

Of  whig  and  whey  we  have  good  store. 
I  may  not  leave  unnoticed-one  line  in  Ritson,  surely  corrupt : 

Swigg  whey  till  them  burst, 
which  Ellis  but  partly  mends  with  — 

Whig  and  whey  whilst  them  burst. 

Ramble-berry  (Ellis)  looks  like  the  original  of  bramble-berry, 
the  blackberry.  In  this  same  stanza  Ritson  has  — 

Thin  as  a  weather's  skin,    ' 
And  Ellis  — 

Thin  as  a  weaver's  skin. 

Wether  might  go  for  weather,  if  a  sheepskin  could  be  called 
thin.  For  weaver,  unless  weavers  too  are  exceptionally  thin- 
skinned,  I  would  read  weevil,  a  small  delicate  wheat-eating 
caterpillar  (not  the  weevil  beetle).  In  stanza  6  Ritson  has  — 

What  pretty  toys  are  those ! 
Ellis  alters  this  to  — 

What  wanton  signs  are  those ! 
In  stanza  7  Ellis  reads  — 

And  all  for  very  fear ! 
Ritson  — 

And  all  because  my  dear. 

After  all  I  can  but  make  patch-work.  The  texts  are  evidently 
very  corrupt,  perhaps  written  from  memory ;  and  emendation 
is  little  more  than  guessing.  Not  four  hundred  years  old  is 


264  NOTES 

this  song,  popular,  and  not  unappreciated  by  collectors,  who 
had  no  interest  in  altering  it, —  one  would  think  the  very  tune 
must  help  to  preserve  a  correct  form  :  and  yet  we  can  not  be 
sure  of  the  words  ;  and  of  the  author  there  is  not  a  trace. 

I  may  conclude  by  adding  to  the  list  of  poetical-and-musical 
publications,  of  the  high  song-time  of  England,  Fantasies  in 
three  parts,  composed  for  viols;  and  Madrigals  and  Motets; 
both  by  Orlando  Gibbons.  The  last  contains  poems  by  Dyer, 
Sylvester,  and  others,  mostly  fragmentary :  as,  indeed,  it  may 
be  repeated,  many  of  the  madrigal  poems  very  probably  are, 
even  some  of  the  few  I  have  given. 

Truly  it  was  a  music-loving  age,  and  with  verse  and  music 
right  worthy  of  its  love  ! 


